


Used to the Darkness

by TowardTheStars



Series: Midnight Sun [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Angst, But slowly starts to become better, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Sirius Black is a Bad Person, Smut, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 61,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23848501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TowardTheStars/pseuds/TowardTheStars
Summary: When Sirius Black sees Severus Snape for the first time since Hogwarts, he knows he has to pick a fight.What he didn't expect was the fight to lead to a kiss. And from a kiss to his bed.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange & Severus Snape, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy & Severus Snape, Regulus Black & Severus Snape, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Severus Snape & Voldemort, Severus Snape/Voldemort, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Series: Midnight Sun [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761829
Comments: 285
Kudos: 587





	1. Come Close to Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> For the first few chapters, there will be pretty heavy smut, and it won't be the loving kind. 
> 
> From there, the relationship will deepen into something more than just really good hate sex. 
> 
> Warnings are included in the summary but there will be dark themes and few heroes. But despite all that, it should be a relatively complicated story and a rather interesting one. I appreciate all comments/kudos and any silent readers who happened to stumble across the story. 
> 
> An important note - there is no need to read Part 1 of the series to understand this work. Indeed, they are practically separate stories. However, I like to imagine the Burning Doves as the basis for Regulus's and Severus's relationship in this story and have grouped in the same "universe". It perhaps helps provide some context and deepen some history/relationships, but can otherwise be largely ignored if so desired. 
> 
> Also, chapter titles are from a song that gives this work its title - Used to the Darkness by Des Rocs. Would recommend a listen :)
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, gray eyes cutting across the grimy darkness of the bar. He cradled his drink to his chest, and the pretty blond girl he was talking to startled.

"Excuse me?” she asked, turning around to look at where Sirius now stared. Her face crumpled in confusion, and she turned back quickly.

Sirius scowled and took a drink, frowning against the whiskey. Of course, he thought. Of fucking course.

“Sirius?” the pretty blonde – Kelly? Kaitlyn? - asked, reaching over to rest her hand on his bicep. She looked at him in concern, and Sirius’s gaze flickered back to her.

In that moment, he faced a choice.

He could do as he intended. Take Kaitlyn or Kelly or whatever the fuck her name was to his place and fuck her and make breakfast and never see her again. She was pretty and had nice tits and would probably be a pretty good fuck. He could do that and ignore the lone figure who had squeezed himself into the dark corner of the dingy bar.

Or he could, an admittedly much worse decision, go over and start a fight with Severus Snape. The grimy bastard sat staring angrily into his glass, looking as ugly and bitter as he always did. Sirius hadn’t seen him since Hogwarts, but he looked even worse if one could believe it.

Remus would tell him to leave Snape alone. James would try to say there were past it, but that was just Lily speaking. Peter would nervously support Sirius, but he always did what the stronger person did anyway.

Sirius, on the other hand, itched for a fight. The war made him angry and frustrated, and he figured breaking the ugly git’s hook of a nose would be a constructive way to rid himself of some pent up tension. A good fucking fight, hopefully with fists, would do just the trick.

In a better world, Sirius would have turned back to that pretty blond and asked her smoothly to leave with him. In a better world, he would have left Severus Snape alone and nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , would have happened.

But he didn’t live in a better world. He lived in a shitty one where evil Slytherin bastards found it appropriate to try to kill Sirius’s friends. So he muttered an excuse and crossed the room to face Snape.

Months later he would wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t. But by then, it was far too late.

Snape jolted when he saw him, face freezing and hand immediately reaching for his wand. Sirius palmed his for good measure and plastered a cruel smile on his face. His blood pounded in anticipation in hexing the hook-nosed bat into next week.

Snape didn’t stand but his face hardened in hatred, and Sirius thought how he would probably just off himself if he looked as ugly as Snape did. It would have been a mercy if someone had smothered him as a child.

His grin widened at the thought of a world without Snape polluting it, and he slid in across from him and sneered.

“It’s amazing Snivellius,” he started, and Snape stared at him with deep-seated hatred. “When I first saw you, I thought some vampire had fucked a hag and given birth to the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. But then I realized it was just you!” He said in cruel amazement, and Snape gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his wand.

“Fuck off, Black,” he hissed, seeming almost pained as he tried to constrain his anger. Sirius laughed and smirked.

“That’s not very nice,” he chided, adding an air of superiority. “I thought Malfoy would have taught his pet manners by now.”

A muscle ticked in Snape’s jaw, and Sirius knew the fight was just a few heartbeats away. His stomach curled in anticipation; he had needed something like this for a while.

“I said,” Snape tried again, voice low and dangerous, “fuck off.” He enunciated each word, and the look in his eyes would have caused many a brave man to walk off. But Sirius was far too used to it and he stared back unaffected. He smiled lazily, taking pleasure in how easy it was to provoke him.

“What? You didn’t miss me? All the good times we had?” he smirked, and Snape tensed. He leaned across the table and dropped your voice. “I know you do,” he said, winking. “You always liked it, I could see it in your eyes,” He let his voice curl softly around the words, so it was almost like he was talking to a lover. It did the trick, because Snape suddenly stood up, knuckles white around his wand.

He pressed a hand against the table and leaned forward, claiming some dominance from his position. Sirius stared up at him in irritation. He was taller than Snape, and he liked to use that against him.

“Don’t fucking speak to me,” Snape hissed, lips pulled back as he bared his teeth. Sirius stood up and leaned forward so their faces were mere inches from each other.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sirius hissed back, fingers wrapped tightly around his wand. They stared at each other with immense, consuming hatred, until Severus finally blinked and backed away.

"Stay away from me,” he snarled, and in a sudden movement, left. Sirius tilted his head as he watched Snape sulk to the entrance. His lips twitched upward for a moment as he thought about he how clearly told him not to tell him what to do. So he couldn’t have expected anything else than what Sirius decided to do.

He trailed behind Snape, ignoring the pretty blond girl at the bar who tried to meet his eyes. He had thoughts for no one but Snape. Nothing would get in his way of beating the shit out of that man.

He just caught it as Snape turned down the dark ally, and he pulled his lips back in a feral smile. He really couldn’t have made it easier, could he?

He stalked Snape down the ally – years of using the Invisibility Cloak with James had taught him how to walk silently. Snape was about halfway down when he finally stopped and turned around.

He brandished his wand, body shaking with hatred. Sirius stared at him and then took a few steps forward. He could simply settle for a duel. But his blood sung for a different type of fight. Something physical and bloody and bruising.

It would hardly be a fair fight. Sirius had far more weight and muscle than the malnourished creep. But he expected Snape to fight dirty. The thought caused blood to pound in his ears.

Snape started to speak, but Sirius quickly flicked his wand and cast _Expelliarmus._ Snape’s wand was blasted away from him, but instead of hexing him, Sirius threw his wand aside and tackled Snape to the ground.

Snape let an oof of surprise which would have been funny in other circumstances. His head knocked hard against the ground, eyes temporarily unfocusing. Sirius pinned him to the ground and glared down at him.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he growled and then swung his fist to hit Snape’s cheek. Snape’s head flung sideways, and he spat out blood. He began to struggle against Sirius, driving his knees upward, but Sirius didn’t relent and landed another hard punch against his other cheek. Snape hissed something, and then he jerked upwards so that his forehead slammed into Sirius’s.

Sirius wheeled back in pain, and Snape managed to slip out from under him like the slimy bastard he was. Then he was on top of Sirius, clawing at his face and tearing nails against skin. It hurt like a bitch, and Sirius’s mind temporarily blanked at the pain.

Then he regained his focus and managed to flip Snape over so that he kneeled over top of him, his blood dripping onto Snape’s ugly face and mixing with his own. Snape sneered back at him, eyes dark, and the pungent red creating a violent contrast against his pale skin and black hair. Sirius stared down at him, heaving, blood pounding in his ears.

Then something happened which months later, Sirius would still not understand. They never talked about who made the first move. Who decided to lean into the other and press their mouths together into a bloody, messy kiss.

It was a terrible kiss. Their teeth clacked together, and their tongues pressed against each other to establish dominance, and the sharp copper taste made him gag.

But he found he couldn’t stop as it made him feel alive in a way nothing ever had.

Snape finally tilted his head away, wheezing slightly. Their eyes met, and Sirius stared down at him, unable to keep the desire out of his expression. Snape inhaled sharply, eyes dark and unknowable. His lips curled back in a sneer, and Sirius realized with a start that they were both hard.

Neither spoke for a long beat, but the air between them trembled with lust. He suddenly craved the ugly bastard. He wanted to fuck him until he screamed, and whether it was out of pain or pleasure didn’t matter. He wanted to tear Snape apart.

His breath caught violently, and Snape started to laugh, the sound low and cruel. It sent rage whipping through him, and before he could rethink his decision, he stood up, summoned their two wands, and yanked at Snape’s arm hard enough to bruise.

With Snape standing, he fought through the desire to clear his mind enough to apparate. He found an inch of clarity among the rush of the fight and the stricken lust, and he pulled Snape with him.

They landed hard in his bedroom, and Snape sneered at the dirty clothes strewn around the room and his unmade bed and the pin-up girls he had plastered onto the walls. Hatred surged within him, and he practically slammed Snape against the wall.

Their lips met and caught, and Snape's hands slipped under his shirt, and nails started to tear at his skin. He slipped a hand between Snape’s legs and reveled in vicious pleasure when the man moaned and ground down against him.

They fucked each other hard against the wall. There was no tenderness or kindness, but rather a consuming hatred that drove them farther and farther into an intense mix of lust, hate, and desire.

At the end of it, Sirius came harder than he had ever had, mind blurred between pain and pleasure. He thrust against Snape and bit down hard enough to break skin on his shoulder. Snape shouted out and came then also, cum hot against Sirius’s skin.

Once Sirius grounded himself from the mind-shattering orgasm, he pushed Snape aside. Snape stumbled and then caught himself, gasping brokenly. Sirius didn’t look at him and instead, stalked to the bathroom.

“Get the fuck out,” he growled and slammed the bathroom door shut. He took a long hot shower, and as the pleasure faded, confusion and alarm took over. He dismissed it. They had hate sex, and it meant nothing more. And it didn’t really matter that that was the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced. It didn’t alter the fact that he hated Snape with every inch of his being.

He finished the shower, noted that Snape had done as he had asked, and lay in bed, trying not to think of him. But he couldn’t get Snape’s face out his mind, for he realized the stark contrast between the blood and his skin and his eyes made him maybe not attractive, but striking. Unforgettable. Like a work of art.

And then he remembered how much of an ugly greasy bat Snape was, and the thought immediately faded.

He despised Snape, and he always would. One quick, mind-blowing hate fuck wouldn’t change that.

**++++++++++++**

He left the Order meeting in a terrible mood, snapping at Peter as he left. He shrugged off Remus’s company and took off. He walked without direction, hoping that the movement would ease his tension.

It didn’t, and he returned to his flat feeling twitchy and irritated. He resisted the urge to punch through his wall and poured a glass of Firewhiskey. He threw it back smoothly and glanced at the clock.

He could go to the bar if he wanted. Find some hot chick and take her home. Sex always helped when he felt like this.

He threw on his jacket and stalked over to the bar. It was a Tuesday night, and the bar was largely empty besides a few regulars. He sat at the bar and ordered a drink, eyes scanning over the room. A pretty brunette girl smiled at him, and with a drink in hand, he headed over and began to flirt.

She ended up in his bed shortly after, and they fucked, his hands resting on her thighs as she rode him. He shut his eyes half-way through, and as he did, his mind tricked him into thinking Snape was the one riding his dick, crying out as Sirius drove him further.

He imagined his nails digging hard into Snape’s milky thighs, and he imagined Snape slapping him until his face stung, and he imagined flipping Snape over and biting into the crook of his neck to establish dominance and thrusting into him hard enough to break him, to show that he belonged to _him._

He imagined Snape coming with his name on his lips, jerking up into him, needy and desperate.

The orgasm hit him suddenly, and he cried out against the intensity of it, the wave of hot white pleasure that brought his mind to a halt. He gasped for air, and the girl slid off.

She smiled, looking proud, and leaned over to kiss him. “Like that, huh?” she said breathily, and Sirius didn’t respond. He figured telling her that he had come over the thought of his hated nemesis would ruin their post-orgasmic haze. No, better to let her think what she will.

His mind still skittered over Snape, and the thought of his dark, unknowable eyes and his bloody, spiteful mouth made him hard, which made him feel frightened. He didn’t understand why he wanted Snape and his ugly, sneering face so badly. It made no sense and more so, _couldn’t_ make sense.

The girl glanced down at his cock and laughed, the pride in her voice irritating Sirius. She reached down and started to jerk him off, pressing her head into his shoulder. Sirius’s stomach trembled, and he did everything he could to keep Snape out of his mind. He thought of hot naked women straddling motorcycles, but then Snape’s hateful eyes flashed in his mind, and he came, biting against his hand to smother the sound.

He lay there, ignoring the girl, for a long time. His body had betrayed him and left him desiring over the least desirable person he knew. He resented it.

The girl left in the morning, and the next night, Sirius drunkenly wrote out a note to Snape and attached it to Medea, his owl. He sent it before he could think twice and began to pace, waiting for a reply. His mind repeated the words in his head:

S _nape, I want to tear you apart. Get your ugly, greasy face to my bedroom before I hunt you down myself._

He waited impatiently for a reply.


	2. Hell Fade Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah - so this chapter is pretty much straight smut, so please read at your discretion.
> 
> Also - currently writing Chapter 10 of this story and as of now, I have it plotted out for about 18, so there's plenty more to come and even the emergence of a plot!

Severus Snape knocked on the door right before Sirius was about to give up on him. He practically threw the door open and paused, taking in the man before him.

Snape scowled, teeth crooked and slightly yellow. His hair lankly framed his face, and Sirius would have slammed the door shut on him in disgust if it wasn’t for his eyes.

Those obsidian chips of glass stared defiantly at Sirius. Long eyelashes framed them, and they contained a hidden depth that stirred something in Sirius. He needed those eyes on him, to look and _see_. Everything else faded into irrelevance.

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius reached out and yanked him into the room. He closed the door behind him and slammed Snape against it. Snape inhaled sharply, and the hatred in his eyes took on a second dimension as desire intermingled.

“Desperate, Black?” Snape sneered, and Sirius scowled.

“Just taking pity,” he shot back, and then before Snape could fill the room with his ugly voice, Sirius captured his mouth with his lips and kissed him hard enough to bruise. Snape gripped onto the back of his hair and without warning, yanked at his hair, causing Sirius to hiss in pain.

The pain, however, shot directly to his groin, and he groaned when he realized he was already hard. Snape wedged a knee between his legs and pushed up against Sirius, and for a few humiliating moments, Sirius lost control and ground down desperately, keening softly.

The smirk on Snape’s face broke him out of it, and he pulled back, staring hard at Snape. He licked his lips and tried to steady his breathing. Snape, besides a slight swelling of his lips, looked unperturbed.

Sirius needed that to change.

His mind scrambled over options, and he settled on one what would surely cause Snape to break his act. He fell to his knees, ignoring how that shifted the power in his room. With Snape’s cock in his mouth, he would quickly regain control. He unzipped Snape’s pants quickly and pulled out his cock.

He examined it for a moment and grudgingly admitted it was _big._ In their flurry of sex last time, he hadn’t really had time to think too much of it, but staring at it now, he was almost jealous. His wasn’t bad by any means and certainly did the job, but Snape’s was the kind girls idolized.

He began to lick along its considerable length, and Snape frantically reached out of something to grab onto. Finding nothing beside Sirius’s head, he decided to rest his hands against the door and leaned heavily against it. His breath caught in his throat, and Sirius could feel his thighs quiver.

Sirius hadn’t given many blowjobs in his life, but he had received quite a few and had an idea of what worked and didn’t. He tried to use some of the tricks the girls had used on him, and he heard Snape moan as he hummed around his cock.

“Fuck, _ah,_ ” Snape moaned, and Sirius knew he was about to come. He waited a moment longer and then slipped the cock out of his mouth and stood up quickly. Snape jolted, but Sirius was ready and grabbed at his wrists to pin him against the door.

Snape stared at him, face flushed and drunk on pleasure. His eyes widened when he realized Sirius’s intent, and he tried to thrust forward to find the final release, but Sirius tilted back so Snape found only air.

Snape let out a frustrated cry and struggled against Sirius’s hold. Sirius was much stronger, so it did no good. Snape cried out when he realized and his breathing grew heavy and frantic. His hips twitched with a desperate need for contact, but Sirius only stared cruelly down at him.

“What is that?” he asked innocently when Snape found it in him to start to curse him out. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Snape let out a long flurry of curses that would have made Sirius blush if it wasn’t for the heady feeling of complete power over the other man. Only he would grant release, and the thought made his cock ache.

“Fuck you, Black,” Snape snarled, and Sirius laughed dismissively. He wanted to reach down and stroke Snape’s cock with the lightest of touches because that would surely drive the man out of his mind, but he worried about letting go of Snape’s hands. He felt the man would claw his eyes out.

“Say you’re mine,” Sirius growled, and Snape stopped struggling to stare at him hatefully. “My whore. Say it.”

Snape spat at him, the glob of spit landing on Sirius’s cheek, and his mind nearly blanked with rage before remembering the position he had Snape in. He had the power, not Snape. “No,” Snape snarled.

“Okay,” Sirius said brightly, and then pulled against Snape’s wrists so that they met across his stomach and he could hold them, with some difficulty, in one hand. Snape started to struggle again, but Sirius managed to hold on tightly.

He stared down Snape as he reached down and with the lightest of touches, began to circle the tip. It was slick with precum, and he ran one finger along its length, reaching father to stroke his balls with a feather-light touch. Snape stopped struggling and cried out, sucking in his cheeks as he tried to gain more friction. Sirius didn’t allow him anymore.

“Say it,” he growled and Snape flinched. He had closed his eyes, and he bit against his lip to stop the moans. His muscles tensed in preparation but there was no relief. Sirius imagined it must feel unbearable. To be so close and yet denied.

It took longer than Sirius had expected for Snape to relent. He felt mildly impressed with the man’s self-control. It didn’t make the victory any less sweet, however.

“Yours” Snape groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. “Your whore. Black…”

Sirius knew he had pushed Snape as far as he should, so still holding on to his wrists, he sunk back down to his knees and brought the aching cock to his mouth.

He only had to take it into his mouth for Snape to come, the orgasm seeming to transcend the normal bounds of pleasure. Sirius swallowed, wincing at the salty taste. He wondered if Snape had liked what he had done, liked how he had claimed all power and control.

Snape’s knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor. He stared at Sirius, eyes dazed and tired. “Black,” he said weakly, and Sirius smirked. At least the sense of mind-blowing pleasure wasn’t one-sided. He gave Snape a few moments to collect himself, surprised at the sudden fondness he had for the man. It was stupid, he thought. Only due to the fact that he had practically sucked the man’s soul out of him.

Snape still continued to breathe heavily, but finally, he looked back up and met Sirius’s eyes. “Bed,” he mumbled, and Sirius grinned. He stood up and waited for Snape to follow, but Snape only shook his head. “One moment,” he said quietly, and the victory rung through Sirius’s veins. He had reduced the controlled Slytherin to _this._

He left the man behind him and strolled to the bedroom, discarding clothes as he went. He reached the bed and lay across it naked. When Snape finally joined him, he would flip the man on his stomach and fuck him hard. He would end the night with another sexual victory and feel better than he had in months.

He also wondered why he had wasted his time with that girl. Sex with Snape was something else, a hate-fueled act that tapped into a power dynamics and resulted in pleasure on a level Sirius hadn’t known existed. Sex with anyone else was…laughable.

He lay in bed, lost in his thought, and didn’t notice it when Severus snuck in, still fully clothed. When he did, he sat up in his elbows and scowled.

“Fucking getting undressed, Snape,” he hissed at the man. Shadows cloaked Snape, hiding half of his face, and Sirius felt a spike of fear run through him. Snape looked…dangerous. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

Before he could reconsider, Snape pulled out his wand and muttered a spell. Suddenly, his hands were yanked upward and black rope wrapped tightly around them, tying them to the headboard. More black rope shot out to tie his ankles against the posts of his bed, and he struggled uselessly against it.

“Snape,” he cursed, enraged. He glared at the man and tried not to feel how exposed he suddenly felt. The power dynamic had shifted so quickly it left him dizzy.

A small smile graced Snape’s face as he stared down at him. He took a step forward and reached down to tenderly rub his thumb over Sirius’s ankle. Sirius jolted and tried to pull away, but the ropes had no give. He hissed in frustration and tried to keep the fear out his eyes.

If Snape wanted to, he could hurt him. Kill him, even. And no one would ever know. Despite that, his cock twitched in anticipation.

Snape sat down on the edge of the bed and still had yet to speak. He trailed his hand up Sirius’s legs, brushing past his groin, and started to gently stroke his stomach. Sirius hissed again, hating how every nerve felt scarily in tune with Snape’s touch.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it,” Sirius spat, masking his fear with blind courage. Snape’s hand paused.

“What a wonderful idea,” he said, voice low and dangerous. The voice did something to him, and unbidden, his hips jerked upward as if demanding Snape’s touch. Snape laughed quietly. “Unfortunately,” he continued, and Sirius wondered desperately how anyone’s voice could sound like that. “I won’t be killing you tonight. I’ll have to save that pleasure for another day.” His lips curled around the word pleasure like it was a sin, and Sirius stared at him and reassessed the man. He felt he had stumbled blindly into something he was not prepared for.

“No,” Snape continued after a moment. “Since you were so inclined to do that little trick out there, it only seems right that I get to do the same.” The words caused Sirius to shiver, and he didn’t know whether it was out of fear or desire. “You will beg for release,” Snape said quietly and firmly, and Sirius laughed. He would _never_ beg someone like Snape. Snape only smiled and tilted his head. “We’ll see about that,” he said quietly.

He started slowly, and Sirius tried to center himself on the thought that he would _not_ beg. Snape could pretend at power, but he had nothing on Sirius. _Nothing._

Then he brought his mouth to Sirius’s nipples, and Sirius started to doubt his initial assumption.

Snape moved with expertise, fingers and mouth pressing against skin as if Sirius was a potion ingredient to be carefully dissected. It made his skin crawl at first, and then he realized that what Snape did to him felt good. Really good. He had no idea anyone’s fingers could move like that.

Sirius thought in some miraculous sense that he would be able to hold out. He only had to maintain enough self-control, and he would find a way to outsmart Snape and come on his own terms. He would gloat in the fact that Snape had crumpled but that he had remained strong and didn’t concede to Snape’s power play.

Then Snape had grabbed at his hips and flipped him over, the magical ropes instantly rearranging. Sirius flinched as he felt Snape’s fingers part his ass, and then Snape’s tongue was there and pressing downwards until, until – _oh._

Some distant part recognized that that had never been done to him before, and then he felt Snape’s tongue break into the rim, and he sobbed out, the pleasure overwhelming and intense. He pushed backward, demanding more, and Snape relented, tongue slowly teasing him open.

His hands curled against the headboard, and he felt his feet practically curl in pleasure. He groaned in frustration when Snape pulled away, but then the man slipped a finger and then another into him, pressing upwards against the muscle.

Sirius squirmed, the fingers feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t know if he should tell Snape that the only times he had taken men to bed, he had topped. He had never had anyone do anything like this to him. But then a white-hot burst of pleasure unlike anything else he had ever felt blurred the thought from his mind, and he cried out, jerking back into Snape’s fingers.

Snape’s fingers curled just so, and he found that spot again, and- _jesus fuck._ Sirius gasped and he tried to rub his cock down into the sheets to find some relief from the torrent of pleasure. Snape noticed and immediately withdrew his hand to hold down Sirius’s hips. Sirius groaned, and he could practically sense Snape’s smirk.

“Beg,” Snape whispered, voice low and seductive. It sent shivers down Sirius’s spine, and he moaned against it.

“No,” he tried to snarl, but it came out more like a weak protest. His self-resolve slipped, and he bit down on the pillow.

Snape sighed as if disappointed and still holding Sirius’s hips so he couldn’t find any friction, he lowered his mouth again, and Sirius whimpered as the tongue pressed against him again.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he cursed and could practically feel Snape smirk. Snape continued for a moment longer, then pulled away suddenly to slap him hard across the ass. Sirius jolted and cried out.

The intensity unmoored him, and he felt like he was drifting with only Snape’s hands and the ropes anchoring him.

“Beg,” Snape hissed, and Sirius heaved – some small part of him demanded he not yield his self-dignity to Snape, but Merlin, that small voice meant nothing in the face of the demands from his cock. He wanted to curse the man out but not as badly as he wanted the man to fuck his brains out.

With another sense of surprise, he realized he had never begged before. Sure, he had played at it with some girls, but he never _truly_ begged. Not as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck, please,” he whined.

“Do better,” Snape demanded and slapped him again so that his ass stung. However, instead of pain, it only seemed to intensify the pleasure. Sirius suddenly had a vivid image of him splayed out on the bed, ass smarting and back trembling with effort.

“Fine,” Sirius keened, gasping as Snape slowly began to massage his ass, and fingers slipping down to gently tease at his hole. “Fuck, _fuck._ Snape, goddammit, you better let me come, I swear to god,” he muttered mindlessly.

“Black, I could quite easily leave you here. Understand? _Beg._ ” The voice dripped down his back, soft and dangerous, and that was what finally pushed him over the edge.

“Fine, _oh god_ , please, p-lease, yes, Snape, oh god,” he started to blabber, the words falling off his tongue in some nonsensical stream. Whatever he said must have been good enough, because Snape released the grip on his hips.

He hissed at the sudden lack of contact and fearfully wondered if Snape would hold true to his threat. But then he felt something much larger press against his ass, and he tensed, fear and anticipation pooling in his stomach.

“Snape,” he said shakily, “Please, oh _fuck_ , please.”

“What do you want Black?” Snape asked quietly, and Sirius couldn’t believe the man had so much control over his voice.

“Fuck, _you,_ ” he continued. Once he finally conceded to the begging, the words came easily. “I need you, your massive _cock._ In _me. Please._ ”

Snape pushed against him and then into him, and Sirius tensed against the pain. He was too big, it was too much, and he wanted to cry out to stop. Snape must have noticed because he reached around Sirius and began to stroke his cock, and the pleasure helped mitigate some of the pain and made it just bearable enough for Snape to push himself fully in.

Sirius sobbed, back trembling, and he felt so full, so full it couldn’t be real.

Snape paused a moment to give Sirius a moment to breathe. Sirius appreciated it, and he thought he might try to say something to make him feel like he had some edge in the situation.

But then Snape started to move, and Sirius felt his soul leave his body.

He came with a sob of pleasure, the orgasm transcending reality. Snape came a moment later and fell on top of him, breathing heavily and biting down into the back of his shoulder. The sudden jolt of pain extended his orgasm until he lost all sense of time and being.

Snape came to himself first and rolled off Sirius with a groan. He muttered a spell that released the ropes, and Sirius gingerly pulled his hands to his face. He noticed with a slight frown that his eyes were wet. That had never happened to him before.

Snape noticed, glancing over at him. He reached out in mild confusion to stroke at the wetness of Sirius’s cheek, and Sirius pulled away, flushing in embarrassment. He wanted to curse Snape out and demand that he leave, but he couldn’t seem to form words.

“Are you alright?” Snape asked hesitantly, and to Sirius’s surprise, he sounded concerned. He scowled at the question.

“You’re not that good,” he snapped, lying through his teeth. He turned his head away so he didn’t have to see Snape.

“Oh, alright,” Snape said quietly, and he seemed stripped of the confidence that had made him into some literal sex god. His voice lacked the hint of danger, instead settling into a more muted tone. Sirius snorted for good measure. “I’ll be going then,” he said coolly, and Sirius wondered how Snape looked – if his cheeks were still flushed or if he had slipped on some passive expression.

For one strange moment, Sirius wanted to tell him no, that he should stay. Fortunately, the moment passed quickly and made a dismissive sound and waved away Snape. He shut his eyes and heard Snape stand, button his trousers, and then quietly slip out of the room.

Sirius wondered if he should call out to him, to say something more, but this was Snape he was talking about. Much better for Snape to leave quietly. No need to suggest that the sex had meant anything beyond a mutual pursuit of pleasure.

Deeply exhausted by the orgasm, he fell asleep quickly and tried not to think about he could still feel Snape’s cum in him. God, he hoped that greasy shit didn’t have any STDs.


	3. Lord Struck Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, more power plays and smut - but some more conversation! Chapter 5 is when their relationship will really start to change and they might actually talk to each other - crazy right? 
> 
> Also - if you like this couple, I have two more works with them - Sleepless and Love Stuck. Would recommend checking them out! Love Stuck is much sweeter and Sleepless is a lot more comfort-based - but both have far more angst than is probably healthy. 
> 
> With that, enjoy!

A few days later, Sirius oweled Snape again. He knew he should forget him, designate him to two fucks, and nothing more. The reasons to end the sex were numerous, including, of course, that they hated each other.

But lust proved more potent than any logical reasoning, and he scribbled the letter out quickly. He waited impatiently for a response, pacing about his kitchen until Snape finally crawled out of whatever sewage infested hole he called home.

When he opened the door and saw Snape, he felt an intense burst of hatred for the man. He hated everything about that narrow mouth and hooked nose. He hated how, despite it being late, Snape still arrived in a formal black button-down and black trousers, and he hated how Snape looked at him with an air of control and preeminence.

Staring at him, Sirius once again remembered how much he resented purebloods and their infuriating sense of superiority despite their lack of any even acceptable skill or character trait.

“Hey,” he grunted out, and Snape arched an eyebrow, the look irritating Sirius.

“Black,” Snape said smoothly and then stepped past Sirius, glancing around the room. His mouth curled in disgust at the empty beer cans and general mess of his apartment, but Sirius didn’t care. At home, he had to be neat. Here, he didn’t.

“Drink?” Sirius asked, closing the door. Snape shrugged.

“If you want,” he said, eyes briefly meeting Sirius’s. Sirius swallowed hard. A single look shouldn’t get him this aroused. 

Sirius needed something to ease the tension and restore some of the confidence he had lost after Snape had done whatever he did to him last night. He poured two glasses of Firewhiskey, downing his smoothly and handing the other to Snape. Snape’s pale fingers gripped around the class, and he frowned as he drank.

“Bed?” Sirius offered again, and Snape smirked.

“After you,” he said silkily, and Sirius shook his head.

“Nu-uh. You’re not getting me like that again. You first,” he ordered, and Snape rolled his eyes and strolled into the other room. Sirius ran his hands down himself, leaned into the fiery feeling of the alcohol, and followed.

Snape stood at the edge of the bed, head tilted and staring down at the sheets. “You did wash them?” he asked, sounding skeptical of Sirius’s ability to maintain hygiene. Sirius smiled cruelly.

“No need when you’re going to get them greasy anyway,” Sirius said with a harsh laugh, and Snape scowled, not moving. “Okay, clothes off,” he growled, voice dropping. Snape glanced over at him but his eyes remained blank.

“I would prefer not to,” he said coolly, and Sirius shook his head.

“Too bad. You’re _my_ whore. Not the other way around,” Sirius said, keeping his voice firm and maintain eye contact. Snape blinked.

“It didn’t appear so last time. On the contrary, I remember you begging so eloquently for my cock,” he said slowly, voice curling over the final word. Sirius stared at him with a mixture of hatred and desire and swallowed hard. The buzz of arousal handicapped his verbal skills, so instead of trying to respond, he walked forward and shoved Snape backward onto the bed.

Snape let out a sound of surprise, but then recovered and stared up at Sirius unruffled and almost bored. Sirius felt a low growl emit from his throat, and he tried to tamp down on Padfoot’s desires. The dog in him wanted to mark Snape as his bitch, which wasn’t too far off from his more human goals.

Snape arched an eyebrow as if daring Sirius to do something, and he briefly envisioned himself breaking Snape’s nose. His hands curled into a fist, but he stopped himself. Instead, he slowly climbed on top of Snape, the growl still rumbling in his throat. Snape noticed and pressed his lips hard together.

“My clothes stay on,” Snape repeated quietly, voice firm despite the lust flush in his eyes. Sirius smiled at the words; they were almost cute.

He stared down at Snape as he ground slowly down on him. Snape gripped at his forearm, eyes shutting quickly. His mouth fell open slightly, and Sirius continued, the restricted friction nearly intolerable on their rapidly hardening cocks.

“Hmm?” Sirius asked, voice dropping down several octaves. “Are you sure you still want your clothes on?”

Snape hissed and glared at him, but it quickly fell away as Sirius reached back to throw Snape’s leg around his waist. The new position provided a better angle, but Sirius kept his movements aggravatingly slow. He needed Snape to break soon.

“Shirt stays on,” Snape grimaced, and Sirius laughed again. He would not fuck in half-measures. The feral part of him demanded all of Snape, even if he had to rip his clothes off. “Shirt-,” he tried to repeat but broke off as Sirius quickened his pace. He threw his head to the side and moaned. “Fuck-just-,” he said breathlessly.

“Just what?” he asked softly, surprised he could still communicate given the desperate ache of his cock against his jeans. The friction was maddening. However, he had a mission in mind so he found some point of control through the overwhelming urge to thrust madly into Snape. Snape didn’t respond, so Sirius slowly started to unbutton his shirt, fingers tracing down the pale collarbone.

Snape flinched and tried to pull away, but Sirius pressed him down with the weight of his body and began to murmur into his ear. “I’m going to tear you apart. I’m going to devour you, one inch at a time. You are _mine_. And that means I’m going to fill you up with my cock until you scream and then I’ll fuck you so hard that you’ll believe in God. Shh, my little snake, you are _mine,_ ” he growled, and the whole time, Snape heaved against him, eyes shut, and grip hard on his forearms. However, the words did the trick because he managed to unbutton the rest of Snape’s shirt and pull it off. Snape seemed unaware, lost in the intoxication of the words, and it took him several moments for him to realize that Sirius had frozen.

Sirius stared at the pale skin of his inner arm and at the dark tattoo that discolored it. He had seen the mark only a few times before on captured Death Eaters and to see it so vividly, the twisting snake and gaping skull, both fascinated and disgusted him. Snape noticed and tried to jerk his arm away, but Sirius gripped his wrist and held his arm in his line of sight. The snake twisted slowly, the mark violent in its darkness. 

The fact that Snape was a Death Eater didn’t surprise him, not truly. He hadn’t fully faced that fact when he took Snape to bed before, but staring at the mark, he couldn’t shy from that fact anymore. Snape was _evil_. A disgusting pureblood who claimed superiority and killed for the fun of it. He had probably murdered, taken innocent lives, and tried to kill Sirius’s friends. The thought made him tighten his grip until he could feel Snape’s rapid heartbeat.

Sirius looked back over at Snape’s face, and besides the redness in his cheeks, his face had turned passive, eyes muted. He opened his mouth as if to speak but then changed his mind. Sirius stared down at him and faced a choice.

He could report Snape to the Order. To the Aurors. He was a criminal and deserved nothing better than Azkaban. Seeing Snape behind bars would be a cause of celebration.

He could kick Snape out. Shove him off the bed, curse him out, and demand that he go off himself in a ditch later tonight. The lines between them wouldn’t blur, the world would remain starkly black and white, absent of a palette of gray, and Sirius could excuse his behavior as a moral slip.

His mind told him to do that. It seemed to wrong to betray Snape in such an intimate setting, so kicking him out would offer the best choice. Easy. Simple. Reaffirming.

However, he thought his body would turn against him if he did so, and he didn’t fancy Remus or James finding him with his own hands wrapped in a death grip around his neck.

And sure, Snape was an evil monster. He had always known that. What he _hadn’t_ known was that Snape was an incredible fuck. And it wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. He wasn’t about to spill the Order’s secrets to the git. They were just fucking, and there was nothing more to it.

Which meant there was nothing wrong with finishing off what he had started.

He was feral in his actions, mind slipping into the primal need to dominate. He bit down Snape’s pale chest, mouthing the ribs. He tore off their pants, and then pressed Snape’s knees against his chest so he was practically bent in half and completely powerless.

Snape didn’t protest. Even when Sirius thrust into him without any preparation and barely any lube, he didn’t whimper or indicate any discomfort beyond a small pressing of his lips. He took it like a man, Sirius thought.

He fucked Snape mindlessly, thrusting in with abandon. Snape had no leverage on him, could only lay there and take it, which shortened every circuit in his brain. Sirius grabbed the hand with the mark and held it down, and only then did Snape whimper.

Looking down at him as he thrust aggressively, he was suddenly struck by how fragile Snape looked. His skin was paper-thin and pale white as if he never saw the sun. He looked starved, ribs poking through as if they would tear at any moment. Sirius thought it wouldn’t be too hard to break him, and with how he moved, he half-expected it to happen that very moment.

Snape proved stronger than Sirius thought and came with a groan. Sirius came a moment later, thrusting through the orgasm so the pleasure expanded and lengthened. Snape cried out softly, surely over-stimulated, but Sirius didn’t care.

He collapsed on top of Snape afterward and lay balls-deep in the man for a while. Snape lay silently under him, legs only slightly trembling. Sirius’s eyes wandered over to the mark again, and his mood soured.

“Does he do this to you?” he asked, voice harsh. Snape tensed but didn’t try to pull out from underneath Sirius. Sirius wondered how long he could keep his cock in Snape and what he would do if he became hard again. Which, given Snape’s effect on him, seemed likely.

“Huh?” Snape asked, and Sirius shifted onto his elbows so he could look at his face. Snape stared back, expression guarded.

“Voldemort,” he whispered, and to his surprise, Snape flinched, fear flashing across his face before he could regain control.

Snape only stared back at him, and Sirius felt like he had the answer he wanted. He wasn’t quite sure what that implied, but at least he knew where Snape had gotten his sexual expertise.

“What? You let everyone take their turn with you then? Some filthy Death Eater whore?” he asked harshly, and Snape scowled and tried to get out from underneath him. Sirius kept his weight on him so Snape couldn’t move.

“Get off me, Black,” he hissed, and Sirius thought he should. But hell, he wanted to know who exactly he was sharing Snape with. At least, Voldemort had some prestige. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone like Avery or Mucliber taking his turn. Padfoot growled inside him.

“Not until you tell me,” he muttered, and Snape cursed, breathing heavily. He glanced wildly around the room, as if searching for a way out, but given his position, he had a very limited set of options.

"Fine,” he hissed, pulling his lips back to reveal stained teeth in an ugly grimace. “Matter of fact, _no._ They would never pollute themselves with someone of my standing.”

Sirius blinked in confusion. “Your standing?”

“A half-blood,” Snape spat, and Sirius felt his mouth drop open. Snape wasn’t a half-blood. His parents were – were, he didn’t know but surely some evil, Dark wizards. Snape noticed Sirius’s confusion and smiled disdainfully. “What? You think I was- sorry to break your heart, Black. Father was a muggle,” he said, face hardening in anger.

“But you-,” he said, trying to reconcile a half-blood Snape with how he had always imagined him – some entitled pureblood like the rest of his monstrous cousins.

“What?” Snape snarled. “Why did I join then?” He laughed harshly. “For the same reason we’re doing this. Power.”

Sirius blinked again and realized this wasn’t the best conversation to have balls-deep in the other man. He pulled out but remained on top of Snape. He didn’t feel it wise to let the man slip out. “So why then is Voldemort?” Sirius began, and Snape flinched again. He scowled, eyes stony.

“Power,” he said, lips curling over the word. “Likes to take power over me. Seems like you and him have something in…common.”

“Don’t say that,” Sirius snarled and gripped Snape’s wrist hard enough to bruise. To Snape’s credit, he didn’t react. Snape didn’t respond either, just staring passively up at Sirius. He looked as if he expected Sirius to hurt him. Sirius wanted to, but the resigned look in Snape’s eyes caused him to pause. “I didn’t know,” he said slowly. “That you were a half-blood.”

Snape looked taken aback and only replied with a quiet yes. He opened his mouth to say more but changed his mind again. Sirius had a horrible feeling that he would have re-evaluate the man from some unredeemable monster to…something else. He wanted to end this conversation; he needed to re-establish order.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he growled, and Snape stared at him, eyes blank as if shutters had closed behind them. “I’m going to fuck you again. And this time you’re going to scream my name.” He paused, eyes growing heated. “And if you don’t, we’ll keep doing it until you do. Because understand this, Snape, you’re _mine._ You’re _my_ bitch, you disgusting piece of shit.”

Snape stared at him, the moment pulsing with tense desire. Then, he slowly tilted his head to the side to expose his neck to bare it a very animalistic sense that sent the dog inside of him wild.


	4. Caught in a Landslide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, there is smut this chapter, as I'm sure you've come to expect. However, there are also conversations! Amazing what happens when two people actually talk to each other. Mhmm, maybe there's more to this than just hate? 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

The routine practically established itself; Sirius would owl, Snape would appear, and they would fuck out all their anger and frustration and hatred at each other.

It did wonders for Sirius’s mood, and Remus, James, and Lily all separately commented on how he seemed to be looking better. They asked what had changed; he told Remus he had taken up yoga, James hard-core metal music, but Lily’s eyes cut through his lies, and he mumbled something to her about meeting someone.

She laughed, apparently delighted by his bashfulness. Sirius wondered what she would do if he told her it happened to be Severus Snape. Then she had whispered conspiratorially about how she wouldn’t tell the other and wished him the best. Sirius had mumbled his thanks and tried to play it off, but he could tell by Lily’s response he had done terribly.

He wondered how they would all look at him if he revealed he had taken a Death Eater to bed and Severus Snape, at that. It would be chaos, he knew. They would think Snape had cursed him or drugged him with love potions, and James would look at him as if Sirius had told him his puppy had just died.

Everyone would think he had been sharing secrets, Dumbledore would bar him from the Order, Moody would hunt him down, and frankly, the valiant act of honesty wouldn’t be worth the fallout. Especially since it meant he and Snape would have to stop seeing each other.

And with Snape as good in bed as he was, Sirius had no desire to see that happen just yet. Eventually, yes, because Snape was a Death Eater and an evil monster, and they despised each other. But not yet because he had just found out that Snape could deep-throat, and he was planning to take full advantage of that particular skill.

And so it continued, one night after another.

**++++++++++++**

“I hope you die a painful death,” he whispered softly, stroking Snape’s hair as they lay quietly in the aftermath of sex. His body felt heavy, mind verging on the edge of sleep. Snape lay against him, leg hooked over his own and head resting on Sirius’s shoulder. With anyone else, they could be mistaken as lovers. “Someone like you deserves that.”

Snape scowled. “Ah, yes, of course. And someone like you doesn’t,” he said hatefully. Sirius continued to pet Snape’s hair and sighed.

"Not a Death Eater, darling,” he responded snidely.

"Yes, just a horrible bully and an arrogant prick,” Snape fumed, and Sirius chuckled cruelly.

“Oh, how stupid of me. I forgot that was comparable to an insane cult that tortures children for fun.”

“I don’t torture children,” Snape hissed, and Sirius felt he had struck a nerve. Interesting. He didn’t think Snape had any morals left in his black, decrepit heart.

“Yeah, just everyone else,” he said, tightening his grip on Snape’s shoulder. He could feel the muscles tense under his fingers and for a moment, wanted to tear into his skin and revel oozing red muscle.

Snape didn’t respond, and Sirius knew he had won. “You’re a monster, Snape. Don’t try to deny that,” Sirius stated, and he wondered how much Snape hated him at that moment. He always thought their rages comparable.

“I’m not,” Snape hissed, “But don’t you dare deny you aren’t one either.”

Sirius laughed at that, but it came off tenser than he would have liked. His mood soured, and he scowled. He wasn’t a monster. He _wasn’t_ a monster.

That honor was reserved exclusively for the likes of people like Snape – cruel and hateful and unlovable. And even if he was also cruel and hateful, he had people who loved him. Which meant him and Snape were not the same. And more importantly, it meant he wasn’t a monster - no matter what he may sometimes think late at night.

**++++++++++++**

“So, who’s got the bigger dick?” he asked casually after Snape finally recovered. Sirius reveled in the sense of victory and control; there was nothing quite like watching Severus Snape lose his tightly held control, especially when the reason happened to be his dick.

“Huh?” Snape mumbled, still sounding pretty far out of it. And Snape had thought Sirius wouldn’t get him back for how he had reduced him to a sobbing mess the other night.

“Bigger dick? Me or Voldemort?” he asked, taking on a note of hilarity. As per usual, Snape flinched at the name.

“The Dark Lord,” Snape responded instantly, and Sirius frowned.

“You’re only saying that because you don’t want me to think that I do.”

Snape scoffed. “Trust me, Black. Your pathetic excuse for a cock is laughable.”

Sirius pretended at offense, but the act slipped quickly. He knew Snape’s words meant nothing. “It’s enough to make you scream.”

Snape shrugged. “I take pity.”

Sirius snorted. “Sure. Next time you’re begging for it, I’ll make sure to remind myself it’s out of pity.” He paused. “So?” he pressed.

Snape stared at him passively, and Sirius once again thought of how beautiful his eyes were. Nothing else was, of course, not his lank hair or yellow teeth. But his eyes…he could lose himself in them.

He finally spoke, a smirk settling on his face. “Neither are as big as mine.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “It had to compensate for your complete lack of any other attractive quality. That’s why.” The smirk didn’t leave Snape’s face, and Sirius knew he wasn’t winning this one. Snape had the kind of cock that made one’s eyes water, and Sirius couldn’t pretend otherwise. But he did need an ego boost; the Order meeting earlier today had ended with Weasley yelling at him for his impotence over a prior mission, even though he had done everything perfectly alright. He stared at Snape and arched an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Snape finally conceded. “Yours might be imperceptibly larger.”

Sirius laughed and appraised himself. Hell yeah, he did. “He’s got a micro-penis, hasn’t he?” he asked, reasoning it would make sense. He had heard that some crazy Muggle did and had started a war to compensate, and he figured Voldemort’s anger could be easily rooted in that. He chuckled at the thought and decided to mention it if they ever fought face-to-face.

Snape blinked. “Well, if yours is imperceptibly larger, I suppose it would make sense, right? Given your own…lack of girth,” he said snidely, and Sirius pushed at him playfully.

“Fuck, you know what I mean,” he said and then laughed again. Snape only scowled at him.

“He doesn’t, Black,” Snape corrected, but Sirius couldn’t care less. In his mind, Voldemort did. And the thought was hilarious.

“Voldemort,” Sirius joked, and Snape flinched at the name, “and his micro-penis.”

Snape scowled but didn’t correct him, and Sirius fell asleep in a good mood that lasted throughout the next day.

**++++++++++++**

“Bed,” Sirius growled, already tearing off his shirt. Snape wasted no time following in suit, revealing alabaster skin that Sirius longed to devour. The Dark Mark lay stark against the soft flesh of his inner arm, looking slightly red and irritated.

Sirius shrugged off his curiosity and reached forward to pull Snape into a brutal kiss. Their teeth clashed together and their tongues pushed gracelessly against each other. It was ugly and wet, but oh did it make him feel alive.

Snape tilted his head and started to kiss and bite down Sirius’s neck, and he bit down to stop his mouth from betraying him. Sirius ran his hands over Snape’s chest and back, noting the bony knobs of his spine and the sharp jut of ribs. He felt like he could break the man, and the thought blanked his mind with lust.

They tumbled back into the bed together, falling heavily on each other. They twisted a few times until Snape ended up on top, his mouth practically devouring Sirius’s neck and collarbone and the soft skin of his shoulder. He moaned unwittingly and felt the bony press of Snape’s shoulder blades against his palm.

He reached a hand down to grab Snape’s ass, and Snape breathed sharply, already hard against Sirius’s leg.

“Black,” Snape hissed breathlessly, and Sirius smirked up into his hair. He loved the moments when Snape started to lose control.

“Yeah?” he asked innocently, his other hand sliding slowly down Snape’s back. Snape pulled upwards, looked at him wildly, and then kissed him hard enough to bruise. Sirius let out a muffled sound of surprise and reached back to grab at the headboard behind him.

If Snape’s mood was anything to go by, tonight would be a good night. They usually just fucked out their frustration and whatnot, but every so often Snape would grow needy. And he would fuck Sirius as if he was the only thing that mattered, which made Sirius feel like he truly was.

Which, when he thought of it, no one had ever really treated him like that. Sure, girls were always into him. But no one had ever touched him as if he was their redemption, their sole solace, their only reason for breathing.

Snape did in rare, fragile moments, during which Sirius thought he would fall in love with him right there and then.

But then he remembered it was Snape and wanted to retch at the thought.

“Black,” Snape mumbled against his lips, snapping Sirius out of his thoughts. He rubbed his leg up into Snape’s groin, and Snape breathed in shakily. His face had flushed with desire, his eyes dark and seductive.

“Tell me you want me,” Sirius murmured, craving the validation. He hoped Snape would talk dirty to him; his voice practically dripped with sex.

Severus blinked and then leaned forward to whisper into Sirius’s ear. Sirius shivered against the feeling of his hot breath and nearly came when Snape’s voice dropped to _that._

“I want you,” he spoke softly, voice curling around the words. “I _need_ you. If not, I will surely die. I will die if I don’t feel your cock in me, filling me up so much I can scarcely breathe. Can you do that for me, Sirius?”

Sirius moaned at his name; Snape had started dropping it every so often in that seductive voice of his, knowing that Sirius found it absurdly arousing.

“Yes,” Sirius choked out and quickly said a spell that vanished their pants. They now lay skin-to-skin, bodies flush, cocks pressing against each other. Sirius tried to keep himself from sobbing out in desire.

Snape shifted against him and slowly sat up to straddle Sirius. Sirius bit against another moan as he stared up at Snape. He was so ugly, he thought, but those _eyes_. Those dark, heated eyes that held broken constellations in their irises.

Snape paused and tilted his head as if considering Sirius. Sirius knew he must look breathtaking. He was stunningly handsome, that he knew, and to have him flushed with lust and splayed out in front of him – he didn’t know how Snape kept it together.

Snape bit at his lip and then reached back to grab at Sirius’s dick, slicking some lube on it quickly. Sirius tightened his grip on the headboard; he wanted to see what Snape would do unprompted. His stomach tensed in anticipation.

Snape pressed his lips together and then raised his hips so that he slowly slid back onto Sirius’s cock. He stared at a point on Sirius’s chest, his expression one of deep concentration. Sirius watched slack-jawed and alight with desire.

He also thought he should have told Snape to stop, to do something to prepare himself. But the pain did not appear to bother him as he often shrugged off Sirius’s efforts. However, he never took Sirius without preparing him, and for that Sirius was grateful. And he loved the prep, the feeling of Snape’s tongue and his fingers pushing inside him.

Snape maintained the look of concentration as he sank all the way down, settling on Sirius’s hips. He lay a hand against Sirius’s chest to steady himself, and Sirius growled softly.

“You’re mine,” he said, a rumble deep in his chest. “You’re mine, my little dark snake. You’re-.” Sirius would have continued but Snape started to move, and his mind blanked with pleasure.

He realized through the rush of pleasure that he now gripped Snape’s milky thighs, which trembled underneath his fingers as he moved. He moaned, and Snape did the same, and their eyes met, and Sirius wondered if he would do as his fantasy-self had done and slap him. He thought he would probably come if he did, and he couldn’t tear himself from Snape’s endless eyes.

Then Snape did something to Sirius that intensified the pleasure so much he felt tears wet his eyes.

Snape, with his long and elegant fingers that bared small, pale scars, wrapped them around Sirius’s throat. Sirius maintained the eye-contact and felt a small measure of fear balloon in his stomach. Snape searched his eyes, and he must have seen what he was looking for, because he tightened his grip and now Sirius had to struggle to breathe, and the fear battled with the pleasure.

However, the look in Snape’s eyes spoke of trust, and it swept Sirius away. He could feel himself nearing his climax, and he gripped harder onto Snape’s thighs. The feeling of his fingers around his throat, the sudden lack of oxygen, the way Snape continued to ride him despite everything…dear lord, he wasn’t sure if he would make it through the orgasm without losing his mind along the way.

He gasped out something, unable to think or form words, and Snape noticed with those brilliant, seeing eyes, and he tightened his grip until Sirius couldn’t breathe. His throat constricted and air staled in his mouth. He gasped and gasped again and his brain screamed for oxygen, but he trusted Snape, trusted that Snape would-

The single breath of air mixed with his climax thrust him through the gates of heaven, and he cried at the feeling of salvation.

He lay lost in the pleasure, his last shred of awareness recognizing that Snape had come too. Then there was nothing but the white haze of pleasure.

When he came too, Snape lay silently beside him, staring intently at his face. He blinked, his expression unfathomable, and looked away when he realized Sirius now looked back.

Sirius thought he should make some cruel comment about how much of a creep Snape was, but he couldn’t summon the energy. Instead, he pulled Snape to him so that they lay spooning, and with Snape’s hair softly tickling his face, he lost himself to sleep.


	5. Only Flesh and Bone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings - mention of gore/injuries but nothing too terrible and some mention of rape - but nothing graphic.
> 
> Also I realized Take Me to Church by Hozier is another fantastic song for this fic. Ahh, who doesn't love angsty Hozier mixed with even angstier characters.

Two months had passed, and Sirius decided tonight needed to be the last.

To be fair, it was the last thing he wanted. Snape in bed was a revelation. But he was also a Death Eater and _Severus Snape_ , and it was never going to work out to begin with.

So before it could start to spiral out of control, he needed to cut it off. Just as abruptly as Snape entered his life, he needed him out of it. Hopefully then he could do as James had done and find some cute girlfriend and do his best to stabilize his life.

He mulled the thought over in his mind, nursing a glass of Firewhiskey. Tonight he would tell them this was the last time. Then they could scamper back to their opposing camps and fight the war as it was intended – not in bed, but in battlefields.

An older part of him hoped it would hurt Snape. He imagined with a vicious glee Snape humiliating himself. A newer part of him, a part that had started to increasingly worry that older part, didn’t particularly feel for that. Snape was, was…a man. A man with a heart who didn’t deserve to be shit on so callously by Sirius.

He hoped it would be easy. He had ended things with plenty of people before, shrugging off the girls' tears. Snape wouldn’t cry, but he thought they would be the type to throw stuff at each other. Maybe he could finally break Snivelly’s nose.

A heavy thumping side outside his door broke him from his thoughts, and he startled. He grabbed his wand and approached it slowly; Snape was supposed to come tonight, but he usually arrived much more gracefully.

He opened the door carefully and stared in shock at the man crumpled on the ground in front of him. It was Snape, but his face was pale and tense with pain. His clothes were torn and bloody, and as Sirius glanced over him, he felt bile surge in his throat as he saw a gleaming white bone sticking through a wound on Snape’s thigh.

Despite the injuries, Snape remained conscious, hand in a death grip around his wand. He breathed haggardly as if every inhale worsened the agony, and he stared up at Sirius with glazed eyes.

He shut his eyes tightly and then refocused them on Sirius. Sirius stared frozen at him, unable to think past the sight in front of him. Snape licked his lips and tried to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t know where else to go.” He paused, eyes searching Sirius’s face. Sirius stared blankly back, still unable to fully process the injured man in front of him. “I can-,” he started slowly, and Sirius broke out of it suddenly, cursing at himself for not taking immediate action. Snape was…it didn’t matter who he was, the man was injured and in pain, and if he even wanted to pretend at morals, he needed to help.

He crouched to Snape’s level, eyes flickering over him again. He appeared to have some deep lacerations on his chest, and his legs looked mangled. The bone gleaned violently, and Sirius had to look away or else throw up. His arms and hands alone looked untouched.

He met Snape’s gaze and held it, trying to tamp down on his panic. “I can get you to St. Mungo’s,” he said quickly, and Snape stared at him panicky.

“No,” he protested, voice frighteningly weak. “No, I can’t- I can’t go there.”

“Snape, I can’t-,” Sirius argued, horror twisting in his stomach. He tried to overlay the Snape he knew with the one that lay before him, and his mind stumbled against it. Nothing he had ever done had ever caused Snape to look at him with such fear.

“They’ll see the-,” Snape whispered, eyes glancing to his arm. Sirius understood, of course. A Dark Mark found on anyone meant Azkaban. The Aurors would be on him before the Healers had finished with his injuries. But he didn’t know any spells that would heal this level of injury, and he didn’t want Snape to die, especially not on his doorstep, and the terror over Snape’s death hit him pungently, and he wondered when their relationship had shifted so that Snape’s death would count as a loss.

“I can’t-,” Sirius struggled to explain, growing desperate. “I can’t heal you. This is-,” he finished weakly, and Snape stared at him, eyes dark and fathomless.

“I’ll tell you the spells, Sirius,” Severus murmured, and Sirius jolted at his name and the intimacy it cast over them. “I’ll tell you the spells. It’ll be easy. Don’t bring me to Mungo’s. Please.”

Sirius stared at him and grappled frantically with the choice. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but Snape’s fear frightened him immensely, and he knew deep down that Snape would rather die than face Azkaban. Even if that meant dying on Sirius’s kitchen floor.

Oh god, what was he doing?

“Fine,” he breathed out. “I’ll, okay. No Mungo’s. But I don’t know what…” Sirius trailed off, swallowing hard. He kept his eyes on Snape’s face and noticed the flicker of relief and gratitude. Snape nodded and pressed his lips tightly together. His eyes flickered shut again and when they opened it, he seemed to have scrounged up some more clarity from the crevices of his mind.

“Thank you,” he whispered, licking his lips again. “I can’t put any weight on this leg, so I’ll need you to levitate me into the room.” His voice was low and rough, but steady and immensely calming. Sirius nodded and focused on it. He knew how to levitate.

“ _Levioso_ ,” he muttered, pointing his wand at Snape. Snape rose from the ground, letting out only a small whimper as the movement aggravated his wounds. Sirius carefully brought him into the room and lay him on the rug. Snape looked even paler, eyes flickering frantically behind eyelids. He opened them when he had finally settled, and Sirius crouched beside him, staring at him desperately for another instruction. He didn’t know what else to do other than that.

Snape glanced over at him, and their gazes met and caught. Sirius couldn’t look away, and neither did Snape. “Alright,” Snape continued quietly. “ _Brackium Emendo_ will repair the bone. For a break like this, it will require a good deal of concentration. It will feel like you have to mentally shift the bone back into place. It helps to look at it, but I know that can be too much.” His voice was soft, breaking off only at a few points, before recovering its strength. Sirius listened closely, closed his eyes, and nodded.

" _Brackium Emendo_ ,” he said to taste the words. With enormous force, he turned to face Snape’s leg and the sickening white bone that jutted from it. Bile burned his throat, but he tried to think past it and dissociate himself from the situation. “ _Brackium Emendo_ ,” he repeated and steadied himself to cast the spell.

Snape was right; it did require a lot of concentration, and beads of sweat broke out from Sirius’s brow as he forced the bone back into place. He was lucky he didn’t have to concentrate on what was actually happening: the tearing of more flesh and that deafening crack when the bone finally slid back into place. Sirius’s wand slipped from his fingers when he was done, and he rested on his hand, heaving at the weight of the spell and fighting against nausea.

Throughout it all, Snape remained quiet, and when Sirius finally looked back up and saw the bite mark on the man’s hand, did he understand how anyone could silently bear that level of agony. Snape blinked a few times, eyes bleary and wet. It took him a long moment to refocus on Sirius.

“Thank you,” he whispered weakly, and Sirius felt tears prick his eyes at the sight of Snape and the gratitude in his voice. “That should be…be the worst of it.” Sirius nodded numbly and wondered how much pain Snape had endured. How much he could endure. To remain cognizant through this…he had a dawning realization that Snape must have endured horrific amounts of pain throughout his life. He suddenly felt very cold.

Snape’s eyes flicked to his chest and then back up to Sirius. The look in his eyes strengthened Sirius’s resolve, and he turned his attention to the deep lashes on Snape’s chest. They oozed blood, but not as badly as Sirius had expected.

Snape noticed. “I’ve taken some potions,” he explained, and Sirius nodded. He picked up his wand and indicated for Snape to continue. “The counterspell is _Vulnera Sanetur_. You’ll have to repeat it a few times,” he said weakly, and Sirius nodded.

He chanted the spell and noticed in relief the deep cuts started to close. Snape tensed against the pain but only let out a low hiss. It took about a few minutes, but the wounds closed, leaving pale, white scars. Snape shuddered and stared exhausted at Sirius. “Alright,” he said quietly. “For my legs, do you have any essence of Dittany?”

Sirius thought to his ingredient stock and nodded. He cast a quick _Accio_ to summon the vial, and Snape let out a sigh of relief. “Put a few drops on the wounds, okay?” Sirius followed the orders, vanishing Snape’s pants, and the essence steamed as it hit the torn flesh. There were several long gashes, but nothing as severe as the wound on his thigh. “Okay,” Snape continued quietly, his eyes drifting shut. “The spell is _Ferula_. Just wave your wand,” he mumbled, his last remnants of strength fading quickly.

Sirius did so quickly, and the wounds healed, leaving Snape battered and exhausted but no longer injured. His hands started to shake, and he stared wildly at the bloody man lying on his carpet. His mind frantically searched for some other goal to settle on, something that he could direct his panicked energy towards.

Snape peered up, eyes thin slits. His hair lay matted around his face, sweat soaking his skin, and Sirius decided he could do for a bath. He picked up Snape carefully, and the man didn’t offer any objections. He carried him bridal style to the bathroom, and Snape’s head lolled against his chest. He cast a spell to fill the bathtub with warm water, another to remove Snape’s clothes and lowered the man into the water.

Snape sucked in a breath, muscles trembling for a moment until he started to relax. He cried out softly, sounding relieved. Sirius supported him for a moment and helped him sit, his head falling back and hair falling aside to reveal the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the monstrous jut of his nose.

Sirius ran a hand through the man’s hair, almost immediately catching on knots. He grabbed a washcloth from the neighboring table and some soap and began to gently wash Snape. He suppressed a hysterical giggle that he, Sirius Black, was washing Snape – a person that had teased mercilessly over his lack of hygiene. An old urge almost led him to lapse into that old habit, but he found he couldn’t form words past the lump in his throat. He washed Snape in silence, the act sacred.

The water quickly discolored with blood and grime, and Sirius cast a spell to clean it again. He ran his hands carefully Snape, rubbing gently at spots of tension. Snape began to speak, his voice rough and hesitant. “Thank you, Sirius. You…thank you.”

Sirius paused, noting the gratitude that he just managed to catch in Snape’s normally unaffected voice. It made him feel valuable and good, which he hadn’t felt like in a long time. He ran the washcloth down Snape’s back and in an impulse, leaned forward to press a soft kiss against Snape’s shoulder. Snape’s breath caught, and Sirius saw him close his eyes.

“What happened?” he asked softly, and a small frown pulled at Snape’s lips.

“Your cousin,” he murmured, and Sirius winced. “Doesn’t particularly like me.” 

Sirius let out a curse, thinking of Bellatrix and her vicious insanity. “She’s…” he started to say but failed to find the words to express his sentiment. He imagined Snape knew well enough, however. “What did you do?” he asked. “To anger her?”

Snape’s frown remained on his face, and he stared down at his hands. “Doesn’t believe someone like me should be so valued by the Dark Lord,” he muttered, sounding angry.

“Voldemort values you?” Sirius asked in muffled surprise, ignoring Snape’s flinch. Snape’s name had never appeared in any Order discussions, and he assumed it had been due to his irrelevance.

"He fucks me,” Snape said bitterly, hands closing in fists. Sirius blinked at his tone; every time they had spoken of Voldemort before, Snape had remained cold and controlled, voice revealing nothing. He had never conveyed any discomfort over the fact that Voldemort used him as some sort of whore, and Sirius had assumed it was relatively consensual.

“Oh,” Sirius said quietly, hands pausing before picking up the movements again, easing the tension out of Snape. “So she’s jealous.”

Snape snorted, face twisting uncomfortably. “I didn’t ask him to,” he muttered angrily, and then he fell quiet as if he said too much. Sirius rubbed at some of the tension in Snape’s shoulder.

"He rapes you then,” Sirius continued, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. He had to be careful; Snape was like a twitchy rabbit, and he couldn’t scare him off.

Snape snorted again, the sound cruel and dismissive. Sirius kept his hands moving tenderly across Snape’s wet skin. “You can’t rape what you own,” he spat, voice coloring with hatred. Sirius started to gently stroke his fingers through Snape’s now wet hair, carefully untangling knots. He wondered if he should argue the point but decided against it. It would only anger Snape.

Another vein of questioning struck him, and he decided to pursue it instead. “What do you usually do?” he asked, and Snape turned to him in confusion. “When you’re hurt like this?”

Snape looked away again and sighed. “Your brother helps me,” he answered, exhaustion beginning to pull at his voice.

“Regulus?” Sirius asked surprised, and Snape nodded. He hadn’t talked to his brother in years; he generally had no idea what was going on his life, but he had assumed his baby brother had gone dark.

He winced at the thought of him; he knew he should have been there for him but he couldn’t help but resent him for how their mother and father treated him. He had craved their affection and approval for most of his childhood, and to see Regulus receive it so easily…

“He was…busy tonight,” Snape explained carefully. “I didn’t know where else to go.” Sirius nodded in understanding and thought for a moment.

“Is he…?” Sirius asked, and Snape waited a moment before humming in confirmation. Anger and disappointment surged through him, and he scowled. 

Snape glanced over and noticed, and he reached to grab Sirius’s hand. His expression was open and apologetic, and Sirius couldn’t look away. “I…I tried to stop him, Sirius,” he said hesitantly, the first name feeling precarious. Sirius didn’t know what to do, so he snorted. An evil, greasy Slytherin like Snape wouldn’t try to keep his brother from Voldemort; it wouldn’t sit right with his sense of the world if Snape did.

“Yeah, sure,” Sirius replied skeptically. Snape’s eyelids began to slide down in exhaustion, but the look in them remained insistent.

“I did,” he protested tiredly. “He wanted to be a Healer. Told him he should just…just do that.”

Sirius laughed harshly. “Yeah, you told him this as you took the Mark, aye?” Snape blinked and looked down, gripping at his knees. Tension settled back into his shoulders, and Sirius sighed and began to massage them again. “Snape, you don’t have to lie.”

Snape shook his head. “No-,” he started, but Sirius cut him off.

“Okay, then why the hell did you join, right? If you’re telling me you told Regulus not to, but you still did, then how the hell am I supposed to believe you?” he asked angrily. Snape flinched at the words, knuckles white against his knees. Sirius breathed deeply to calm himself; he didn’t need to yell at an injured man. “I’m just saying,” he said quietly and stroked the back of Snape’s neck, fingers sliding against wet skin.

Snape twisted his mouth down and took a long moment to respond. “Your brother…he only thought to join because of his family. Friends. His hearts not there.”

The statement sent some relief through Sirius; it was nice not to think of his brother as a murderous bigot. However, it didn’t answer his question. “And yours was?” he asked, even though he remembered how Snape used to be friends with Lily.

Snape shuddered and shook his head again. “I had…nowhere else to go. And I couldn’t…couldn’t go back,” he murmured with great difficulty. “He was there. Offered me power. To-. But, but not your brother. He had another way.” The admission came out painfully and lessened Sirius’s anger. To see Snape like this was to see him human. To see him as a tired, frightened man instead of an evil, bitter Slytherin. And his heart struggled against a sudden upsurge of emotion.

Before he could rethink, he grasped at Snape’s chin and tilted his head towards him. His eyes were closed, but Sirius didn’t care as he closed the distance and pressed a tender kiss on his lips. It felt like nothing more than a parting of warmth, but it overwhelmed with intimacy. It imparted a comfort, unlike their other kisses which meant nothing more than sex.

Snape sighed against it, head tilting forward to rest his forehead against Sirius’s. Sirius broke the kiss but maintained the contact, and he thought with irony about how he had planned to end it tonight. But he wouldn’t, not here. Not like this.

“Go back where?” he asked, more of an exhale than anything else. Snape flinched and pulled back. Sirius startled at the sudden loss and wondered over the reaction.

“Doesn’t matter,” Snape murmured, nodding off slightly. “Bed?” he asked softly, and Sirius smiled.

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a hand on Snape’s shoulder to prevent him from standing up. It was probably not best to place weight on his legs just yet. Instead, he picked up Snape as he had before and carried him to the bed, laying him down carefully.

Snape was already asleep when Sirius tucked him under the blankets, and Sirius sat beside him for a long time, petting Snape’s still damp hair, running through the events of the night, and wondering where the hell Snape could have been trying to get away from.


	6. I'm Just a Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've now included this story in the Midnight Sun series. The other fic in it, Burning Doves, focuses on Regulus's/Severus's relationship. The stories come from a similar place, but some details will differ - however, it should deepen some elements of this story and expand on some of this story's themes. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments/reads, and I hope you enjoy as we hit the next stage of this story.

When Sirius woke, Snape still lay curled up beside him, hair fanned out on the pillow. He breathed evenly, face relaxed in the grips of sleep. Sirius stared at him for a long moment; usually, Snape fled before Sirius woke. It felt strange to see Snape asleep and so utterly defenseless, and Sirius felt as if intruded on something personal.

He reasoned it made sense that Snape still lay beside him. The man had been badly injured last night and needed time to recover. 

Sirius pulled himself out of bed, showered, and made some breakfast. He kept on glancing towards the bedroom door, expecting Snape to waltz out. He felt like he stood on shaky ground and needed a conversation in the light of the day to reaffirm the lines of their relationship. Last night had been intimate, more so than any of the sex, and Sirius struggled to know what to make of it.

He thought seeing Snape’s sneering, hateful face would provide some clarity.

When Sirius finally left for the Order meeting, Snape still lay fast asleep. His thoughts drifted back to him throughout the entire meeting, earning a sharp comment from Moody about his inattention.

Sirius was tempted to laugh at him; he doubted any of them knew his brother or Snape had taken the mark, or that Snape had evidently risen high in the ranks. Their ignorance reaffirmed his worth. However, dropping that tidbit of information was currently out of the question seeing as the two Death Eaters happened to be his little brother and his current lover.

James seemed worried about him and tried to talk to him afterward, but Sirius shrugged him off. He wanted to get back to his apartment to see if Snape had finally risen from the dead. He took off quickly, ignoring Dumbledore’s look, and apparated to his place.

He took a moment to orient himself and realized with a mixture of disappointment and anger that Snape had already fled. He stewed on Snape’s absence for the rest of the afternoon, strolling down passageways of Diagon Alley with a bad look on his face. People avoided him, disturbed by something in his expression. He hoped he would run into some Slytherin that he could hex, but he had no such luck.

Finally, as it grew later, he returned to his apartment and settled in his chair to wait for the man. Of course, Snape might not show. He poured himself some whiskey in case.

He let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he had been holding when he heard a knock on the door. He quietly muttered the spell to unlock it. Snape walked through a moment later, eyes narrow and defensive. Cold aloofness had replaced the vulnerability from last night, and he stared at Sirius with lips curled upwards in a distasteful sneer.

Sirius pressed his lips together tightly and tried to repress the rage Snape’s attitude catalyzed. His mind flashed back to the injured man last night, and some of the tightness lessened in his chest.

Snape crossed the room, paused a moment, and then sat down on the couch beside Sirius. He stared emotionlessly at Sirius, the sharp contrast with last night causing an uncomfortable cognitive dissonance.

“Thank you for your help last night,” Snape said finally, his voice clinical. Sirius frowned and took another sip of the whiskey.

“Yeah,” Sirius muttered, glancing away. Snape blinked slowly as if trying to understand his reaction.

“It won’t happen again,” Snape assured, and Sirius turned back to stare at him. The bags underneath had faded slightly, but his cheeks looked gaunter than usual. His hair, despite Sirius’s careful washing, still looked just as greasy. He wondered what was wrong with him.

Sirius remained silent, angry but not exactly sure why. It felt more complicated than the usual blanket hatred towards Snape. He realized with a scowl that it had intermingled with what felt like disappointment. “What were you talking about last night?” he asked suddenly, knowing he sounded annoyed. Snape blinked, but otherwise, didn’t react.

“Would you care to elaborate?” Snape asked blankly. It was only because he had been spending so much time with the greasy bastard that he recognized the tone as one that Snape tried to hide behind. He figured Snape knew exactly what he was talking about.

“You said,” Sirius explained anyway, “that you joined Voldemort,” and there was the flinch, right on time. Sirius continued regardless. “That you joined Voldemort because you couldn’t go back somewhere. What did you mean?”

Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, and his lips twitched downwards. However, his voice remained carefully controlled. “I don’t recall saying that,” he lied.

Sirius snorted, and Snape looked away. “Fine, be like that,” Sirius muttered darkly, mind already turning to ways to get Snape to admit it. Potions flickered through his mind, but he dispelled the thought. The paranoid bastard wouldn’t let anyone drug him with veristeraum. However, alcohol could probably do the trick.

Some other night, though. Tonight, he felt too tense and needed a good fuck to dispel the horror of last night. He imagined Snape felt the same.

“Bed?” he asked, tilting his head to the room. Snape’s gaze followed his, and after a moment, he nodded. Sirius pushed himself out of the chair and walked to the bedroom, and Snape followed quietly behind.

It didn’t last very long; Snape acting reserved and unenthusiastic and Sirius too lost in his thoughts to really focus on the act. Snape came quietly, more of a sigh than anything, and Sirius came not too long after, trembling against the feeling of Snape pressed against him.

Snape started to scoot to the far end of the bed, but Sirius reached out to pull him back. In their hazy states, he figured he could get Snape to speak some more. Physical contact would help, he reasoned, and he didn’t mind the weight of Snape against him afterward. It anchored him from getting too lost in his head.

Snape shifted against him, but their bodies remained flush. Sirius drew lazy shapes on the man’s back, waiting for him to relax again.

It took a while, but Snape settled more comfortably against him and his breathing evened out. Sirius figured it was his chance. He would have to start off easy, though. See if he could even get Snape to open up.

“I didn’t know you were friends with my brother,” Sirius said quietly, petting at Snape’s hair. He expected Snape to tense, but the man remained relaxed. Snape hummed, and Sirius pressed on. “When did you guys-?”

“My sixth year,” Snape said softly, voice lacking the usual malice.

“Oh,” Sirius said. “Because you guys were-?”

Snape hummed against him again. “No, I was in talks, but he was still…no, he asked me to tutor him in Potions. He needed to pass his O.W.L.S for him to apply to become a Healer.”

Sirius felt confused; he had never known Regulus to show any interest in Healing. But, to be fair, it wasn’t like he had paid attention to his brother. Or assumed he would want anything other than what Mother wanted. “I thought he wanted to go into the Ministry,” he replied, echoing the words of his parents. He felt Snape frown against him.

“His parents did, I believe. But no, I don’t believe he ever wanted to,” Snape corrected, and Sirius bit down on the inside of his cheek. He felt like an idiot.

“Oh,” Sirius said uncomfortably. “How is he?” He didn’t want to have to dwell on his considerable failure as a brother.

Snape took a long moment to respond, sounding sleepy when he finally did. “Alright,” he decided on finally. “The Dark Lord doesn’t…” he cut himself off.

“Yeah?” Sirius murmured. Snape drew in a breath beside him.

“The Dark Lord doesn’t pay too much attention to him. So he’s never…never hurt that badly,” Snape whispered, and Sirius thought back to the gleaming bone sticking out of Snape’s thigh.

“Are there are people he does?” Sirius asked, mind jumping to the Slytherins he knew. He figured he would never get such a good source of information on Voldemort’s habits, and anything he could learn could prove valuable in the war.

"Yes,” Snape said slowly. “People who fail him, of course. But I’ve kept-,” he stopped suddenly, and Sirius tenderly traced his shoulder. He needed Snape to feel safe enough to tell him what he wouldn’t in the light of day.

"Kept what?” Sirius asked gently, and Snape shuddered against him. “Kept what?” he repeated, adding a touch of insistence to his voice.

“Just…I take responsibility when I can for Reg’s mistakes. So that…” he trailed off, and they didn’t speak for a long moment. Sirius’s mind burned with the admission.

“Why would you do that?” Sirius couldn’t fathom why Snape, the soulless, heartless bastard, would choose to suffer for anyone else. Why he would decide to shield his brother and take his punishment.

“He’s my…my friend,” Snape explained defensively.

“Are you in love with him?” Sirius asked suddenly, grip tightening on Snape’s shoulder. He had the very sick thought of Snape fucking him only to get as close as he could to his brother. The perversion of that made him nauseous, and he sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.

“No,” Snape stated, the word seeming true enough. “Reg is…he’s been a good friend to me. And as I’m sure you can imagine, I don’t have a lot of those. I don’t love him, Black.”

“But what, you let yourself get tortured for him?” Sirius asked wildly, sitting up and pushing Snape off. Snape still looked tired so his glare lacked its usual strength.

“Would you not for Potter?” he stated, and Sirius scowled.

“It’s not the same,” he explained. “James is my brother. And you’re just some…creepy friend Reggie has.”

Snape’s face contorted with anger, “So you suggest I stop then? Let your brother face the wrath of the Dark Lord?”

“No,” Sirius protested, throwing his hands up as he tried to explain. He breathed deeply, trying to decide if he should respond with anger. But if he did, he would never hear what Snape had to say. “I don’t understand why, that’s all,” he said slowly, trying to find a point of calm. Snape stared at him, eyes ablaze.

“Because,” he snarled. “Your brother doesn’t know pain. I’m trying to make it so that he doesn’t need too. For me, it’s too _late_.”

Snape stared at him, rage unchecked on his face. His hands trembled with it, chest moving up and down rapidly. Sirius posed to argue back, but Snape’s words made him pause. What the statement implied…Snape was being melodramatic. He had to be.

Before he could respond, Snape grabbed a pillow and threw it hard at him. He stood and quickly tried to redress, stumbling over a pant leg. Bright red spots had splotched his cheeks, eyes consumed with anger. As soon as he dressed, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Sirius stared at the spot for a while. His mind raced and he tried to process the conversation. Reggie, and Snape, and Voldemort, and everything that implied…

He wondered if he should abandon his efforts to pry Snape open. However, the curiosity now ran too deep, wetted by context-less statements that hinted at something….something important. Something he had to know, even if it risked Snape storming out on him every time.

**++++++++++++**

Despite the fight, Snape returned the next night, eyes glinting with distaste. Sirius regarded him, picking apart his always-greasy hair and the hard lines of his face and those fathomless eyes. He wondered what those eyes had seen, the horrendous atrocities they had faced.

The mystery prickled against his skin, and he itched to unravel Snape one confession at a time.

Snape didn’t talk when he crossed the room; instead, he grabbed roughly at Sirius’s face and pulled him into a crude kiss. Sirius parted his mouth so Snape could slip his tongue in, the ferocity of it stunning him. He let Snape have his way, let him pull him brusquely into the bedroom, and viciously tear his clothes off.

He let Snape flip him on his stomach and push himself into him. The sex was brutal and rough, and Sirius bit against the sheet to silence his grunts of pain. He tried to imagine what had overcome Snape; they hadn’t fucked like this in a while, not since the very beginning. It had to be about their conversation last night – pent up anger and frustration that Snape saw apt to take out on Sirius.

Neither of them lasted very long. Sirius bit his cry down and winced at the soreness. Snape hissed out as he came, and then pulled out, standing up suddenly to stalk into the bathroom.

Sirius heard the running of a shower, and an immense feeling of shame and disgust came over him. Snape had fucked him like a cheap whore, without even a word, and maybe that was alright in the beginning when only hatred and an intense desire to hurt each other existed. Now, though, it made Sirius feel gross and used.

He rolled himself over and stood up slowly, wincing again at the pain in his backside. He figured he should have stopped Snape, but their relationship was so fucked up, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He stumbled to the bathroom door, pausing for a moment to listen. He couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the shower, so he carefully opened the door and slipped inside. 

Snape stood in the shower, the water blisteringly hot as steam curled around him. He stood in the stream, a hand pressed over his mouth, shoulders shaking slightly, and skin reddening at the heat. His face faced the wall, and it was only as Sirius started to cross the room, did he realize the man’s presence.

Snape jolted and pulled back, red-rimmed eyes flashing towards him. Panic flickered over his face before he slipped on a mask of hatred. It didn’t matter though because Sirius could see right through it. He realized Snape had been crying, and the thought made something uncomfortable twist in his stomach. He took another step forward, surprised at his need to comfort the man.

Snape sneered at him and watched warily as Sirius reached the shower. He stuck a hand out hesitantly to feel the water and cursed when the water burned. He reached out quickly to turn the temperature down and stepped in when he could finally bear it. Snape trembled, eyes flickering away, and Sirius, trying not to think too much, pulled him into a hug.

The action surprised him as much as it did Snape, and they both tensed against each other. However, neither sought to end it, and they remained embraced, gradually relaxing. Snape’s hook of a nose pressed into his shoulder, and Sirius pressed his lips into the man’s wet hair. Water ran in caveats down their shoulders and chest, skin slippery against each other.

They didn’t speak for a long moment, and Sirius wondered what to say. What they were doing…it didn’t fit in the confines of their relationship. They despised each other and wished each other dead. They didn’t offer comfort to each other; for years, they had only reveled in each other’s pain.

This was…new. And it frightened him.

Snape broke the silence first, murmuring quietly against the rushing of water. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you.” His apology hung fragile in the air, and Sirius hummed in recognition. “I was…angry,” Snape tried to explain.

“About last night,” Sirius clarified, and Snape nodded. Sirius breathed deeply – he faced a crossroads. He could fall back into familiarity, make a snide comment, and disparage Snape. Or he could edge slowly into the unknown and respond with a gentle openness. He didn’t make the decision, as much as the decision made itself.

“I’m sorry too,” he apologized, the words awkward. Snape tensed against him.

“Why?” Snape said quietly, sounding once again vulnerable. Sirius slowly began to stroke his skin, and Snape shuddered.

“Because I shouldn’t…I didn’t respond the best way last night,” he explained. He paused, seeing if he had the bravery to speak past the sudden clatter of nerves in his stomach. “I…I haven’t been all that good of a brother to…and I took that anger out on you.”

He felt Snape frown against his shoulder. “You had a right to…” Snape said, sounding confused. Sirius sighed and gently cradled Snape’s head to his shoulder.

“Not sure I did,” Sirius elaborated. “It felt like…what you were doing made me a worse brother, you know? And that’s not right to think that.”

Snape’s hand lay across his back, and he once again thought about how skinny the man was. It surely couldn’t be healthy. Snape took a long time to respond, the water continuing to press against them.

“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to…,” he paused and sighed. “Reg has been one of the very few people who have treated me…kindly,” he whispered, voice nebulous. Sirius could barely hear him. “And this is how…how I can protect him.”

“Thank you, then, for that,” Sirius responded thickly, and he had the uncomfortable realization that Snape wasn’t perhaps the person he had always thought. If he was, he would have left Reggie for the dogs. Still, he struggled to imagine anyone opting for more pain, regardless of the circumstances. “It’s…it’s good to hear that he has someone like you then. But I just…” he broke off as Snape tensed yet again. He was glad he held Snape; the man could carefully control his face, but his body remained honest with his emotions. The simple tracking of Snape’s tensing and relaxing provided some insight into his mental space. He proceeded carefully.

“I don’t really understand…how you could still want to take the punishments instead? Even if he is someone important to you…” he trailed off, waiting nervously for Snape to respond. He rubbed his thumbs into the knots of muscle in Snape’s back, and Snape shuddered again.

“Have you ever been tortured?” Snape finally asked, and Sirius froze in surprise. No, he hadn’t, not really. His mother had hexed him when he pushed her too far, and that had hurt, even leaving him with a few scars. But he wouldn’t necessarily consider that torture. It wasn’t like he had ever been crucioed. He knew with certainty that Snape had.

“No,” Sirius said, somewhat embarrassed. He felt like as a member of the Order, he should have at least born some battle scars. He didn’t want to look like Moody, by any means, but he wouldn’t have minded at least some to prove his strength.

“It’s best you never do,” Snape continued quietly. “It’s…it’s unbearable.” The soft admission cast fear across Sirius. “It breaks you more than you think it would. It…you start to contemplate death in a way you probably shouldn’t. And it…doesn’t end when the pain stops.” The words fell from his lips as a broken confession, and Sirius listened carefully as dread befell him. “I’ve…faced it. And if I can stop someone else from…someone who I view as kind and despite everything, good, then that matters more than it hurts.”

Sirius held Snape as if he was something delicate and prone to break. He thought of Snape’s face contorted in pain, piercing screams destroying the silence. He thought of red lights and seeping blood and exhausted whimpers. He thought of Voldemort, who he had never seen, leering down at a beaten Snape, and he thought of Reggie watching silently, terror in his eyes.

It moved something in his heart – something that no one, besides Moony, had ever touched. Something rooted in a heartrending pity and a fierce protectiveness. Padfoot whimpered inside him.

He couldn’t find the words, and he struggled to try to think of what to reply with. Snape clung on to him, steam making the air heavy. “You can…” Sirius began, swallowing against a lump in his throat. “You can always come here. If you’re hurt again. I’m…it’s the least I can do.”

Snape breathed softly against him. “Thank you,” he said finally, sounding exhausted. Sirius realized with a start he felt the same. His eyelids grew heavy, and he resisted the urge to slip down right here and fall asleep.

Recognizing the conversation had ended, Sirius turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and with slow, tired movements, dried off Snape and himself. They retreated to the bed, and the last thing Sirius remembered before drifting off to sleep was a light, hesitant kiss against his cheek.


	7. Everything I've Done

Any thoughts of ending their relationship had passed – Sirius found himself far too invested. Snape was a mystery, a _challenge_ , and one he found both exceedingly simple and incredibly difficult.

There was no Moody to snarl at him, no Dumbledore to express disappointment. No James or Remus to worry over him. No one to judge or critique or disappoint. He did as he wanted, proceeded as he thought best, and in that, it was simple.

It was him and Snape and he supposed the bed in which they lay together and the quiet sounds of their voices.

However, it _was_ him and Snape, and for that, it was incredibly difficult. They bickered and fought and snarled, rages flaring with every snide comment and hating glare. Snape’s few instances of vulnerability changed everything but also absolutely nothing. Their dislike of each other ran deep, and a few conversations didn’t alter that fact.

Most nights, they did as they always did. The sex remained just as world-bending, and their positions shifted every night as they lost and reclaimed power.

Other nights, Sirius would pry.

He found he could never do so before sex. Snape always arrived far too closed off. He would only glare at Sirius and respond with short, clipped statements. After sex, he was better, especially when Sirius tried hard to pleasure him. However, he remained mute if they lay at opposite ends of the bed. It was only when Sirius ran his fingers tenderly over Snape’s sweaty skin, petting gently at his hair that Snape would begin to open up.

He would wait until he felt Snape relax against him, tension slowly easing out of muscles. Snape’s breathing would even out, and his grasp on Sirius would tighten slightly as if trying to pull him closer.

Then, and only then, could Sirius ease Snape open. He had to progress carefully as any sudden movements would scare Snape off. And he listened, truly listened for perhaps the first time in his life because there was no need to respond or joke or prove anything. All he could do was ask and receive.

Slowly he delved into the depths of the man lying beside him.

**++++++++++++**

“What would you have done?” Sirius asked softly, and Snape's lips twitched downward. “If you could have…if there was none of this?”

Snape remained quiet for a long moment. “Potions,” he finally replied. “Would have liked to be a Potioneer.”

Sirius hummed in understanding and waited. If he did, Snape would often yield under the silence and reveal more.

“That’s why…why the purebloods tolerated me. Would do their potions homework and such.”

Sirius thought on it, a question striking him. “Did they not like you?” he asked curiously. He had never been privy to the Slytherins drama, but he remembered Snape being largely friendless until about his fifth year or so. Then he had started to cling onto the likes of Avery and Rosier.

Snape snorted. “I was a filthy half-blood and best friends with a muggle-born,” he sneered, hatred filtering through his voice. Sirius winced. “You weren’t the only one who despised me.”

Guilt twisted in Sirius’s chest. They had made the hallways of Hogwarts treacherous for Snape, but he had always assumed the Slytherin quarters offered sanctuary.

“But you-?” he started to ask.

“What?” Snape snarled, tensing. Sirius rubbed at his shoulders, skin soft beneath his fingertips. Snape drew in a sharp breath but didn’t pull away.

“You-I don’t know, you would hang out with them,” he tried to explain, and Snape scowled.

“You and your merry crew didn’t exactly make Hogwarts safe for me,” he said angrily. “They offered protection; I offered some value with my potion-making.”

“Do they like you now?” Sirius asked softly, marveling at how Snape still hadn’t pulled away or shut down. It proved his theory – sex that edged on loving and gentle physical contact tore down Snape’s barriers like nothing else.

Snape snorted again, fingernails scraping against Sirius’s chest as he clenched his hand into a fist. “No,” he hissed. “Of course bloody not. If not, they hate me more.” He paused and pulled away, eyes narrowing. “What are you trying to do, Black?”

“Huh?” Sirius asked, genuinely confused. Snape stared at him, gaze piercing as he searched Sirius’s face.

When he spoke again, his voice sounded tightly controlled. “Is this so you can…mine information to report back to the Order?” He said the words emotionlessly, and his gaze shuttered. Sirius shook his head after a moment.

“No,” he protested. “Blimey, no. I mean if you want to drop some info, I wouldn’t oppose. No one knows about you,” he added after Snape continued to stare at him with distrust.

“Then why-?” Snape said icily, and Sirius shrugged, unwilling to express the torment of thoughts in his head and the intense desire to reveal the man hidden behind his bitter masks.

“Curious, that’s all. I don’t know, I guess I always thought you were a part of their group, you know?” he said slowly and carefully, taking in Snape’s reaction. “Hell, I didn’t even know you weren’t a pureblood.”

Snape’s brow furrowed, and he scowled. “Well, stop asking,” he muttered in irritation. “We’re just here to fuck, Black.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he replied, bringing his hands up defensively. He stared at Snape for a moment longer, relieved that only wariness had replaced his distrust. He dropped the matter and turned aside, mind turning over Snape’s confession.

He didn’t fall asleep for a long time, but he didn’t turn back to look at Snape. He imagined the man also lay beside him, mind frantically searching over the past few minutes for any secret spilled. When he woke, Snape was gone.

**++++++++++++**

“Do you…who would you say is better in bed?” he murmured into the back of Snape’s neck, the other party clearly implied. Snape didn’t respond, and he traced his fingers over the sharp jut of Snape’s hip bone and through the soft hair at the bottom of his chest.

“Do you really need me to answer that?” Snape tried to snarl back, but it lacked any force.

“It’s good for my ego,” he replied lightly, and he smiled into Snape’s hair as he imagined the ugly scowl that crossed his face.

“Oh, of course, how could I not bow before the mighty weight of your-,” Snape began, but Sirius cut him off before he could gain steam.

“Severus,” he whispered, and Snape froze. It was a recent discovery, but just like Snape using his name, he had found that Snape responded intensely to any use of his name. Used correctly, it meant his anger would evaporate in the face of its intimacy.

“You are nothing to the Dark Lord,” Snape enunciated, and Sirius knew better than to argue. But he also figured he knew the true answer.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, touching the heart of the matter.

“It’s never stopped you before,” Snape sighed, reaching a hand down to grab onto Sirius’s. A good sign.

“What is he like?” He waited in anticipation as Snape took time to reply.

“Have you-?” Snape finally asked, and Sirius shook his head.

“I’ve never seen him. Some in the Order have, but we mostly just deal with the Death Eaters. It’s not easy to get to him. I’ve heard from others, though,” he added, thinking back on Dumbledore’s and Moody’s terrifying descriptions. But none of them had seen him as Snape had.

“Oh,” Snape said quietly. “Well…he’s everything. Power incarnate and so on. You don’t…defy him. Ever.”

“Yeah?” Sirius prompted, lapping in the description. A shadowy figure hulked in his imagination: a brutal, powerful force.

“He’s…very handsome,” Snape murmured. “Or used to be, at least. The Dark magic has twisted him. Made him inhuman.”

“Did you then, I don’t know, fancy him?” Sirius asked and immediately wanted to smack himself in the face. He finally had Snape talking about Voldemort and he had to ask probably the most stupid question he could have thought of.

Fortunately, Snape didn’t seem insulted but rather amused as he chuckled. “I was in awe of him, if anything. I wouldn’t consider it fancy. He…draws everything in a room to him. But he’s terrifying in it. Understands how to use power. How to…he’s brilliant, Black. Terrifying, insane, but brilliant.”

Sirius nodded and pulled the other man tighter against him. He noted the reverence and awe in Snape’s voice, but from Snape’s confession the night of his injury, he hadn’t seemed to join Voldemort for the standard reasons of pureblood superiority.

“How does he…?” Sirius began, pausing as he tried to phrase the question. “What does he think of you?”

Snape sighed again but remained relaxed against Sirius. “No one knows what he thinks, let alone me.”

Sirius waited; he knew the purpose of his question had been expressed clearly enough.

“Are you going to run back and tell all your little friends?” Snape asked wearily. He had been tired earlier, the sex more tender than usual.

Sirius pressed a kiss on the back of his shoulder. “You’re my secret. I intend for you to stay that way.”

“Your dirty, little secret?” Snape’s voice twisted in amusement, and Sirius snorted against his shoulder.

“Something like that,” he muttered, smiling into the crook of his neck.

“Very well. The Dark Lord is…I suppose, fond of me. I believe he finds me, more so than the others, engaging company. Of course, that doesn’t mean I am immune to his anger or that he doesn’t see it fit to…punish me when appropriate.”

Sirius winced at the final words and wondered how their sources in the Order could be so terrible as not to know of Severus Snape. “Care to elaborate?”

Snape sighed in mild irritation. “If you insist, Black,” he said scathingly. He paused. “He appreciates my…inputs. Believes I have a good mind for strategy. He finds my…background compelling. My loathing for Dumbledore’s favorites. That’s you, Black,” Snape clarified, and Sirius pushed against him lightly.

“Yeah, fucker, I know,” he joked and Snape huffed out a laugh. “What else?”

“What more do you want to know?” Snape asked harshly, and Sirius pressed another kiss against the bend in his shoulder.

“Why does he take you to bed?”

Snape frowned, grip tightening on Sirius’s hand. He didn’t respond for a long beat. “I told you. Power.”

“There’s other ways to show power,” Sirius countered carefully.

“Yes, but…why do you then?” The words hung in the air, and Sirius wanted to admit that he has asked himself the same question many times. The easy answer was hatred. The less easy answer was he loved reaching father than most others into the depths of Snape’s soul only to tremble at the dark, broken beauty it held.

He wondered if Voldemort felt the same. If he had seen the defiant eyes of Snape and hadn’t been able to look away.

"Because you’re…” Sirius answered when he realized the silence had dragged on for too long. “You’re…there’s nothing like it,” he murmured, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. Snape stilled.

“You’ve had better, right?” he asked with a note of disbelief. It took a long moment, but eventually, Sirius found the nerve to shake his head. Snape inhaled sharply, and neither man moved for several beats.

Then Snape rolled over and pressed his forehead against Sirius’s, gaze open and insistent. Sirius stared into him and wondered how he could let himself go so far with the ugly git beside him. He had a sudden, desperate urge to push Snape out of bed, but then Snape spoke, voice softer than the sharp lines of his face.

“You’re also…” he said with difficulty. “The best I’ve ever…ever had. Which I suppose isn’t saying much, but I hope your ego appreciates that you’re much better in bed than the Dark Lord could ever hope to be.”

Sirius felt himself drowning in the man’s eyes, and he found it hard to breathe. He had one final question though before he would slip his hand down and rub their cocks together.

“Would you end it with Voldemort, if you could?” he asked, the words fragile. He swallowed against the hard lump in his throat. Snape closed his eyes and frowned.

“Of course,” he murmured. “Of course.”

“Just me then?” Sirius tried to joke, but it fell flat and came off much more vulnerable than he would have liked.

“Yes, just you, Sirius,” Snape insisted quietly, and Sirius wondered if this is what it felt like to fall in love with someone.

He wouldn’t know, he thought. He had never been in love before. But he had imagined it would feel something like this. 

He really, really should have ended it.

**++++++++++++**

Gray clouds hung heavy over the sky and a drizzle misted the air, dropping everyone’s mood. The Order meeting had been a grim affair; a giant clan had ravaged a small Scottish town, leading to many casualties, and they carried the heavy weight of their failure.

Remus and he had gotten a drink afterward, but Remus only looked stressed and the conversation fell flat. Even talks about baby Harry paled in the face of the seventeen deaths they should have prevented.

Sirius had angrily hexed a pile of leaves on the walk back to his apartment, frightening a flock of birds. It helped him feel a little better, but not much.

Snape had immediately picked up on his mood, eyes narrowing slightly. Understanding crossed his face, and Sirius wondered hatefully if Snape had known and let it happen. He figured yes, and the thought made him want to hurt the man as if he bore responsibility. Even if his heart had betrayed him, he knew logically that Snape was a bad person. And no one could ever love something like that.

The conviction wavered as Snape knelt to the ground and took Sirius’s cock in his mouth. His mouth moved with slick, wet heat, and Sirius’s mind blurred with it. He cried out softly as Snape swallowed around him, and he came not too long after.

Then Snape stood and kissed up and down Sirius’s neck, slowly undressing the two of them. Sirius shuddered and grabbed at Snape to pull him towards the bed.

The sex was gentler than most, with Snape pulled into his lap as Sirius sat against the headboard. Snape rode him, hands tangled in Sirius’s hair. Sirius couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

Towards the end, Sirius blindly grabbed for Snape’s face and pulled his forehead against his own. The man trembled against him, and he shuddered, crying out in pleasure. They came together, Snape collapsing on top of him. Sirius held him closely, hands running up and down his back and breathing in the scent of sex and sweat and Severus Snape.

Afterward, they cleaned up and lay entwined with each other. Snape’s skin was soft against his own, skin a pale canvas of faded scars. Sirius traced them curiously, fingers wondering over the cause of each smooth line.

When he had first seen Snape’s thin body, he had wondered why the man kept so many of his scars. There were potions and spells, while difficult, that would clear the skin, etch away the scars and leave undamaged skin.

Some in the Order used them to do away with the worst of their injuries. Sirius, himself, had never wanted to opt for them – he liked the idea of carrying scars. Something long and jagged on his chest that proved he had faced a horror and bested it.

He had thought of asking Moony once but then realized he would kill him at such a request.

Snape, however, had no dearth of scars. His chest, especially, carried signs of significant abuse, and faint remnants of curses littered his legs. His hands only had small cuts, arms largely unscathed, which Sirius had asked him about one night as he ran his hands up and down them.

Snape had answered quietly, as he always did, about how he brewed many of the Dark Lord’s potions, and while one didn’t need legs for that, one certainly did need hands. He remarked that Rosier had broken his arm after cornering him after a meeting, and the Dark Lord had hurt him badly for that offense. Badly enough that no one had tried to injure his hands and arms again.

However, the rest of him showed no such reservations from others. He could easily make out the reddened scar on Snape’s leg where Bellatrix had broken the bone through. The other scars remained a mystery – a cacophony of lines that hinted at horror but revealed nothing else.

He wondered if tonight would be the night he asked. It would provide a much-needed distraction from the giant attack his mind kept jumping back too. He thought it over, ticking off the boxes in his head.

Snape had already been in a good mood when he arrived. The sex had been good – gentle and loving, the kind that made them both a little dizzy. Snape had remained next to him afterward, ankle looped over Sirius’s leg. He now lay relaxed against him, the typical tightness of his muscles easing.

Sirius started to pet the man’s hair and stared at the ceiling. Dwell on the giants or ask Snape to describe scar by scar his injuries. Admittedly, not a great set of options, but the choice was clear.

"Are your-,” he paused, thinking over the question. Snape sighed but didn’t tense. “Your scars. Um, are they all from my insane cousin?”

Snape chuckled darkly. “She wishes.” Sirius had been glad to find out that Snape was even less of a fan of his cousin than he was. Friend of his brother, enemy of his cousin…it was nearly enough to think that Snape wasn’t some evil, murderous nutcase.

“Okay.” He lay silently and waited. Again, another trick he had discovered. If Snape felt like he had chosen to reveal on his own terms what Sirius intended to ask, he went into far greater detail. Just as he had expected, it worked.

“Some of them are hers,” Snape continued quietly. “Some are from other Death Eaters who aren’t my…biggest fans. The Dark Lord, of course.” He paused, and Sirius thought the answer seemed good enough. It felt like that would cover the vast extent of scars, and he pursed his lips to respond when Snape started to speak again.

“Some are mine. Potions accidents and such. Some are…yours and Potters,” he whispered and Sirius froze. For the most part, they avoided talking about their relationship at Hogwarts. About the years of bullying. About that one time Sirius nearly killed Snape.

The anger and hatred remained far too recent, and neither man had yet to find it wise to poke at the still seeping wound.

Sirius only managed to hum in recognition, the sound noncommittal.

“This one…here.” Snape took Sirius’s hand and lay it against a short scar at his collarbone. His tone remained surprisingly non-hostile as if the scars were only curious reminders of days largely forgotten.

“My third year. You dropped, ah, foxglove into my swelling potion. Wasn’t quick enough to stop the cauldron from exploding. And this one here-,” he moved Sirius’s hands to a scar that looked like a long claw mark. “Fifth year. The night you sent me…ah, Potter didn’t get me out fast enough. And this one-,” he brought Sirius’s hand to one near his hip. “Fifth year. _Saxa mittent_. You nearly killed me with that one. I had my guard down so I nearly wasn’t able to deflect it in time.”

Sirius winced as he remembered that particular incident. It had been a spell found in a dusty book in his house, and it sent sharp, pointed rocks flying towards Snape. He had been quick enough to deflect the rocks but clearly had missed a few.

He felt horribly guilty, the shame clamping into him. The way Snape talked about them, that nearly vacant, curious tone, cut straight into him and made his insides curdle. He, he, it had all been a good joke, of course. Amusing pranks. It wasn’t his fault Snape had been such an easy target.

It didn’t make him feel any better, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to rationalize what he had done. James and he had always laughed about it. And if it bothered Snape so much, he would have surely told Slughorn or Dumbledore or someone. They, I mean he knew Dumbledore always favored them, but surely if what they were doing was wrong, he would have said something. And even in their fifth year, when – well, he had only gotten detention for it. If what he had done had been as bad as Snape believed, then Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of this age, would have surely seen the same.

But now seeing the scars, the faint reminders of their jokes on Snape’s pale skin, Sirius could no longer see the humor in them.

He rubbed his thumb over the one on Snape’s hip, thought back to the awkward teenager in too small robes, and felt a crippling sense of guilt and self-hatred.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered painfully and wondered if James and he had only been lying to themselves. That all their funny pranks were just excuses to bully the ugly, weird boy. He wondered if that made James a bad person and him a monster.

Snape didn’t speak, and Sirius knew he clutched a knife in his hands and could drive it deep into Sirius’s heart. He could cut apart Sirius with his scathing tongue, and Sirius, vulnerable and guilt-stricken as he was, would relent and allow Snape to slice him into pieces. If Snape felt so inclined, he could hurt Sirius, and even if there was no physical scar to show for it, the emotional one would run deep and fester.

Snape held every ounce of power, and Sirius trembled against it, fear waging war with the guilt.

Of all things, he hadn’t expected Snape to kiss him softly. Snape pulled away quickly and settled back against Sirius, and Sirius’s mind tumbled over itself trying to figure out what that could possibly mean.

The kiss played itself over and over again, lips tingling from the hint of pressure. He lost track of time and realized with a start that Snape now slept quietly beside him. It took Sirius a long time, but he eventually joined him as his mind finally ran itself into exhaustion.


	8. Take My Hand

Sirius realized with a start over drinks with James and Remus that he quite likely loved Severus Snape. James had been talking about Lily, Remus blushing over Emmeline and their recent date, and for a brief, dizzying moment, Sirius almost mentioned Snape and how a few days ago, he hadn’t slipped away before dawn and instead, stayed and made Sirius the most delicious omelet of his life.

He slammed his mouth shut quickly, and James and Remus had stared at him alarmed. Sirius tried to laugh it off, but James and Remus exchanged a look.

The conversation continued, gradually smoothing over that bump. Sirius commented on James and Remus’s love lives and wondered about his own.

He listed all the reasons why he would not love Severus Snape: hair, face, body, personality, the fact that they despised each other et cetera, et cetera. Hell, they still didn’t refer to each other as their first names.

Then, he thought of all the reasons why someone, certainly not him, could possibly, after great effort, fall in love with someone like Severus Snape: the great sex, the fathomless eyes, the tortured past, the quiet acts of bravery, and the soft admissions in the shadows of the night.

He thought of Snape’s elegant hand holding his to the small scar on his hip, and he thought of Snape crying in the shower, and he thought of Snape crumpled on his doorstep, injured and bleeding but still able to look at him with defiance and strength.

He figured that must have been the start of it. Before then, it had just been hate sex. He had despised the man, and Snape had despised him back. Then, he had cleaned Snape of the blood from his wounds, and they finally spoke to one another. 

Then, the sex started to feel like more, and not everything was about trying to dominate Snape. He realized Snape held depths and emotions that left him speechless and yearning for more than just…

His heart had betrayed him, preventing him from ever falling in love with the many beautiful girls, but leaped for a greasy, ugly, hook-nosed git.

It had taken weeks to form, the idea slowly building in his head, but once he thought of it, it crashed over him in its certainty.

He loved Severus Snape.

The simplicity of the statement mocked him. He loved Severus Snape, and the world was insane and brutal, and the war raged on, and nothing, absolutely nothing, made sense.

But he loved Severus Snape.

He wondered if James would choke if he asked if they could do a joint wedding – James and Lily, the resplendent, beloved couple, and him and Severus Snape – an ugly mistake of a relationship that had no business stepping into the light.

And that was the truth of it; their relationship wasn’t anything to be proud of. Their love, if that’s what one could call it, was nothing to be celebrated. A joyous wedding was an absurd pipedream, an almost insulting thought when compared to people like James and Lily.

He contemplated the ludicrous idea of shoving their relationship into the light. He envisaged joining Remus’s and James’s meandering conversation with talk about how he could scarcely breathe when Snape looked at him in certain ways.

Remus would surely respond with concern, thinking the stress of the war had broken Sirius along the way.

James wouldn’t believe him. He would look at him and laugh, and when Sirius persisted, scoff and then panic at the fact that the greasy, crooked bastard had drugged his best friend with a love potion. That would set him on a hunt for the man. He wouldn’t rest until Sirius regained his sanity and saw Snape as the rest of them did.

Only Lily, perhaps, would see it differently. She had been friends with Snape for years; she must have caught glimpses of the person hiding behind his bitter masks. She would empathize and support them; even though she and Snape no longer considered themselves friends, she remained protective of him, scowling whenever James and Sirius’s banter led them to their favorite target. He thought she would understand.

And perhaps Reggie too, for that matter.

But no one else. Absolutely no one else.

“Are you alright, mate?” James asked suddenly, grip tightening on his glass. Sirius broke from his thoughts and frowned.

“Yeah, sorry,” he muttered and glanced at his watch. He should leave soon; Snape would be slipping into his apartment in the next hour or so.

He wondered, with a horrid feeling, if he had to tell the man that he loved him. He figured that’s what one did, but his pride protested at the countless slights over admitting such a humiliating fact.

Snape would laugh at him, cruel and mocking. He would prove once again no beauty existed in their relationship. And if there was now love, at least on Sirius’s side, it was not the good kind.

James and Lily had the good kind – the kind that people admired and spread happiness. The kind that resulted in snotty kids and rocking chairs and a fifty-year anniversary.

Sirius and Snape had the bad kind – the kind that people muttered about and regarded with disgusted concern. The kind that resulted in an ugly breakup and shattered glasses thrown angrily across a room and bitter resentment that lasted for years.

He had to laugh at it, the absolute absurdity that he had fallen in love with Severus Snape. The laugh settled uncomfortably in his chest. Remus and James looked at him like he was crazy, and with a final chuckle, he figured he was.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius mulled over the idea that he loved Snape for the next week. He tested the words in his mouth, trying out Snape and then Severus and then Snivellus for good measure. It sounded wrong to his ears, and he wondered if it would ever feel right.

He made a list of everything he hated about the man – a long, spiraling thing that started with his hook of a nose (even if he had grown rather fond of it) and ended with irritating superiority (even if he knew it was only a pretense).

He then made a list of everything he loved about the man and threw it away when he realized it had started to grow longer than his Hate List.

He schemed out if he could subtly talk to Lily or Remus about it, turning Snape into some emotionally distant chick, and get some much-needed advice. But to do so put him at risk of slipping up, and he knew Snape would murder him if he did.

And the whole time, Snape came to him at night. The sex was wonderful as they knew exactly what worked and what didn’t as they had grown scarily in tune with each other’s bodies. Afterward, they would talk quietly, conversations drifting over small things. When Snape finally fell asleep, Sirius would watch him, eyes tracing the now smooth lines of his face and the supple curl of his lips and his long eyelashes against his pale cheeks.

He would try to decode the man, thoughts flitting over all the versions of Snape he knew and trying to form on a cohesive understanding of the man. There was Snape the Slytherin. Snape the Half-Blood. Snape the Death Eater. Snape the Potioneer. Snape the Friend. Snape the Victim. Snape the Lover.

Alone, they all made sense. Snape the Slytherin was bitter and caustic, an ugly, greasy thing. Snape the Death Eater was hateful and murderous. Snape the Friend had a heart bigger than most and a protective sacrificial streak. Snape the Lover had beautiful eyes and confident hands.

Together, there was no sense in it. Too many complex facets locked in direct conflict. A paradox inside of an enigma layered with plenty of conceptions that Snape would prove one night and disprove the next.

And Sirius loved him despite all of it. Or because of all of it. He had no idea, felt just as confused over his own inner space as he did over Snape’s. There was no end to it.

Finally, the ceaseless thoughts would drive him to exhaustion and then to sleep, answers still irritatingly elusive. The morning would come, and he would wake to the smell of eggs and Snape in his kitchen. Snape had started to do this thing where he would smile when he saw Sirius emerge blearily from his bedroom, but it wasn’t some wide, egregious smile, but rather a small one that barely disturbed his face but lit up his eyes and left Sirius breathless and in love.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius made a mistake when he absent-mindedly mentioned the Order’s spy over breakfast. Snape’s eyes had instantly narrowed, fork frozen midair as he stared at Sirius.

“Spy?” he asked slowly, and Sirius suddenly felt very nervous. They had managed to keep most talk of the Order and the Death Eaters and the war in a broader sense out of their relationship, and Sirius knew he had fucked up.

“Um, no,” he tried to backtrack, but Snape’s eyes tracked his movements and saw right through him.

“Black,” Snape said in a low tone, and Sirius stabbed his omelet. In moments like these, it was easy to forget they fought for opposing sides. And that whatever he said could very easily end up at Voldemort. Which meant he had a responsibility not to mention any Order business to a Death Eater, even if said Death Eater was his lover.

Sirius swallowed and shrugged. He knew he couldn’t lie, but luckily, he knew very little. For the spy’s safety, Dumbledore hadn’t disclosed anything besides the fact that they had one. He couldn’t fathom the person’s identity and had no information that could lead Snape to one.

Still, it wasn’t good for Voldemort to know that one of his followers had turned. And if they lost their spy over this too…it was one of their very few resources, and Dumbledore would be enraged.

“I don’t know who, Snape,” he muttered irritated. “Dumbledore won’t tell us. So you can go and tell your precious master that. And if you had any insights on who’s spying on us from your side, it’d be greatly appreciated.” He glared at the carton of orange juice. Snape didn’t speak for a long moment, fork settling back onto his plate.

“Let’s not talk of this anymore,” Snape finally replied, pushing his plate aside. He stood and began to clear the table. Sirius glared at the table and didn’t speak again.

**++++++++++++**

“Black, there’s no time-listen to me,” Snape ordered as he rushed into the apartment. Sirius jolted from the magazine and stood abruptly.

Sirius reflexively tensed because Snape wore Death Eater robes. He, fortunately, had his face uncovered, so Sirius didn’t hex him to hell and back. Still, it unnerved him.

“What? What is it?” he asked frantically. Snape stared at him with wild eyes and a definite measure of panic. 

“The Dark Lord is heading to 52 Wenlock in East London. They found an orphanage for Muggles that display magic – they intend to – alert the Order, do what you must, but please stop them,” Snape relayed quickly. They stared at each for a moment longer and then both apparated away without another word.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius shuffled into the apartment with a bone-deep exhaustion. His whole body ached. His eyelids felt bound to leaden weights. He stumbled towards the sink, and with sooty hands, grabbed a glass and filled it with water.

He gulped at the cooling liquid; the smoke had burned his throat, and his mouth tasted like ash. The water offered a measure of relief, and he drank another glass.

They didn’t know who had started the fiendfyre – one of the nameless, faceless Death Eaters. It had quickly engulfed the entire orphanage. The Order had to battle the flames to prevent it from setting the whole street on fire. The smoke had burned his eyes. It had been exhausting work, but they had managed.

Sirius braced himself on the kitchen counter and summoned the last of his strength to shuffle into the bedroom. The door was slightly awry, and if Sirius wasn’t so blearily tired, he would have pulled out his wand for he remembered shutting the door. He should be preparing for an attack, but he couldn’t find the energy to care.

He pushed into the room and immediately tensed, fingers fumbling for his wand. A Death Eater sat on his bed, he would recognize that style of robes anywhere, but – oh, _Severus._

Snape, he corrected tiredly. He was not Severus to him; he didn’t think he would ever be. The thought made him sad, but he tamped it down. He was too tired to deal with emotions.

Snape sat on the edge of his bed. He had left the lights off, so he sat in darkness. He slumped forward, head bent, and black hair falling lankly around his pale skin. His nose gave him away as it stood starkly against the overwhelming blackness, statuesque in its severity. 

He still wore the Death Eater robes: ebony with silver thread accentuating the chest and arms. He held his mask carefully in his lap, one hand absentmindedly tracing over the etchings on the forehead. It was too dark for Sirius to get a good look at it, and he wondered if they had faced each other tonight. If either of them had sent a curse flying after the other.

He didn’t react to Sirius’s presence, and Sirius ignored him as he lurched to the bathroom. Grit and soot dirtied his hair, and he itched to clean himself of the battle. He stripped and nearly cried out in relief under the rush of water. He shut his eyes and looked into it, letting the water stream down his face and chest. The darkness felt like a comfort after the searing intensity of the fire, and the water purified him.

He eventually stumbled out it. He grabbed a towel to quickly dry himself, rubbing at his hair. He felt measurably better but still bone-tired. His bed called for him, and he did nothing to resist its siren song.

When he re-entered the bedroom, Snape hadn’t moved. Sirius ran his eyes over his back, at the sharp lines and harsh tension. Snape might not have known, he thought. The fire had turned the night into chaos.

“They’re safe,” he ground out, wincing at the scratchiness of the voice. “We got them out before the fire.” 

Snape twitched at the words. “All-all of them?” he asked, the typical deepness of his voice ruined by the smoke.

“Yes,” Sirius replied as he stumbled into bed. He climbed under the sheets and wanted to cry at how good it felt. He could never have imagined a bed would feel so soft and clean. His eyelids drooped, and he twisted his face into the pillow. Before he fell asleep, he blindly reached out his arm in the direction of Snape. His hand hit coarse robes. “You’re alright,” he mumbled, “No one’s hurt. Go shower. C’mere when you’re done.”

He heard Snape move, felt the robes pull away from his fingertips, and then he was asleep, the pandemonium of the night lost to the safety of sleep.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius woke with a yawn. He rubbed blearily at the sand ground into the corners of his eyes and glanced over at the clock. 5:30 it read. Sirius yawned and figured he would fall back asleep soon enough.

In the meantime, he took in his position. Snape lay practically half on top of him. He rested his head on Sirius’s chest and had draped one hand over Sirius’s side. One leg had bent over both of Sirius’s. He could feel the steadiness of Snape’s breathing across his chest and noted that the man smelled clean. He had also lost the thick robes for a bare chest and a pair of underpants.

Sirius didn’t move. He didn’t know if they had moved into this position over the night or if Snape had also stumbled to the bed and then moved as close as he could to Sirius. He didn’t know which one he wanted, but both made his stomach ache.

The past night had been a nightmare. After Snape’s frantic warning, Sirius had alerted the Order, and they had apparated to the orphanage. They managed to arrive before the Death Eaters, which was how they had gotten the children out in time. Remus, Lily, Emmeline, and Marlene had run through the rooms, taking child after child while everyone else had stood guard.

The attack came. The Death Eaters were surprised and enraged, the Order more prepared than in months. One of the Death Eaters had turned the orphanage into an inferno, and the night had grown confusing and frightening.

They had driven off the Death Eaters, though. A victory. One of the likes they hadn’t had for a while.

When they finally apparated away to the meeting house, Sirius felt the need to weep because not only was it a victory, it was one where no one had been hurt. The children were safe. The Order members scorched but not burned. It was all they could have asked for.

And it was because of the man sleeping beside him.

He felt the reason why was clear enough; Snape had said it himself- he was a monster, but not one who harmed children. The attack on an orphanage must have been an escalation, and one Snape couldn’t stomach. Sirius was glad; he didn’t want to love someone who could.

However, it must put Snape into tremendous risk. He had arrived so frantically, eyes ablaze, and Sirius worried someone else noticed his absence. He wasn’t sure what punishment Snape would face for the betrayal, but he knew enough that it would hardly be pleasant. He blanched at the thought of Voldemort viewing this betrayal as grounds for murder.

He knew now that Snape would heroically sacrifice himself for those weaker, but he still quaked at the idea of losing Snape.

He hoped Snape knew what to do. That Snape could lie well enough to save himself, along with the others. And if he couldn’t, Sirius thought he might not let him leave.

He leaned his head against Snape’s and pressed his lips to his temple. His hair still smelled like smoke, but it felt warm and comforting like a fire in a hearth. Sirius yawned again, and he felt his mind begin to slip away. His thoughts seeped like watercolor paint.

His mind meandered like falling threads, and he thought of how much he had initially despised his love for this man. How he could see it as nothing more than a sick, dark, perverted expression of attraction. There was Lily and James, and then there was him and Snape.

He had wanted to rip it out of him. It frightened him. It still did. But this love, which had crept out the shadows into his heart, had saved twenty children tonight.

He released the clawed grip around his heart. He could feel no shame over their relationship if it meant children intended for slaughter had survived.

He still didn’t think it was beautiful. Perhaps it didn’t have to be. Or perhaps it was the beauty he had seen staring down at Snape, face smeared with blood and eyes glinting with defiance. Not beautiful, per se, but striking. Like a work of art.

**++++++++++++**

“Good morning,” Sirius mumbled into the top of Snape’s head. Snape grumbled something back, and Sirius rolled over to pull him back into his arms.

The clock no longer showed an ungodly early hour, and like always, he had woken after Snape. However, the man hadn’t dashed out of bed as usual. He had, however, untangled himself from Sirius’s grasp and now lay on the far end of the bed.

If Sirius hadn’t woken earlier, he wouldn’t have known Snape spent the whole night seeking comfort from him. He wondered if this was a normal occurrence he had finally cued himself on. The thought made something pleasing knock around in his stomach.

Snape let himself be pulled back into Sirius’s arms, even if his body remained tense and rigid. Sirius pressed a kiss against his forehead and hoped he would relax.

“Are you going to be okay?” Sirius asked when they settled next to each other. “Will he know it was you?”

Snape’s hand convulsed against his side, and Sirius wondered over the reaction. “I’ll be fine,” Snape ground out.

“That’s now what I asked,” Sirius corrected gently.

“No,” Snape finally said, the words seeming wretched from him. “He shouldn’t. Too many involved. Won’t suspect his inner circle.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow at that. It always felt strange to remember that Voldemort highly valued Snape. It made him feel as if he had missed something. “So you’ll be okay?”

Snape seemed ready to respond scathingly, body tense, but after a moment, he relaxed. He shut his eyes and pressed his lips together. Something flickered over his face, but Sirius couldn’t catch it.

“Yes,” Snape responded simply. “I should be. It was…a catastrophe for our side. There will be punishments.”

“Reggie?” Sirius asked carefully, dread sinking in his stomach.

Snape frowned. “Perhaps. But I’ll…I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. “And thank _you_ – you, without you, we would never have – it would have been a bloodbath. You – that was brave.”

Snape let out a dismissive sound. “That’s not bravery, Black.”

“Of course it is,” Sirius responded. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” Snape insisted quietly.

“Yes, but did it not frighten you?” Sirius continued. Snape remained quiet. “Then that’s bravery.” He lightened his tone and smirked. “Look at you. You’ll be a Gryffindor soon enough,” he teased.

Snape groaned and lifted a hand to shove at his shoulder. “Don’t insult me in such a manner,” he tried to sneer, but his tone betrayed his amusement.

Sirius grinned. “Our own little Gryffindor.”

Snape scowled. “Continue with this, and I’ll curse you into next week.”

“You know,” Sirius continued, regardless of Snape’s threats. “You wouldn’t be too shabby in the Order.” He kept his voice light, but the seriousness of what he proposed was not missed. Snape stilled beside him.

“You wouldn’t want me,” Snape finally said, his tone seeming a fraction off. Sirius shrugged.

“I don’t know,” Sirius eased, “I think we’d all appreciate someone who would keep the worst of our Gryffindor impulses under check. Or if not, at least flay us alive for our recklessness.”

“Ah yes, my favorite thing. Babysitting,” Snape sneered. Sirius huffed out a laugh.

“Think about it, alright? At the very least, we have pretty good Christmas parties.” He let the topic drop; he had planted the seeds, and he was not stupid enough to think he could force them to grow in soil as stubborn as Snape. No, Snape would only come around on his own, and for some reason, Sirius thought he might. It made the alcove of his ribs warm, and he smiled as he imagined Snape’s prickly, sneering presence at the meetings.

Now, though, his carnal desires insisted to take over. He supposed it was a Gryffindor thing – to find acts of bravery incredibly arousing. He tilted his head down and smirked. “C’mere, you smokin’ hot thing.”

Snape nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

“Smokin’ hot,” Sirius explained with a grin. “Cause of last night. The fire? Get it?”

“Black, you are the least humorous person I have met in my entire life,” Snape deadpanned. “And I spend my days with Death Eaters.”

Sirius snorted out a laugh. “You know you’re hot,” he complimented. He felt a rich sense of fondness for the other man; Merlin, what Snape had done last night had been _hot_.

Snape snorted again. “Amusing, Black.”

“What? C’mon, you don’t see it?” Sirius asked, shifting his body so that he now lay atop of Snape and could stare into his face. He propped his weight up on his elbows to avoid crushing the smaller man.

Snape scowled, clearly unamused. “I am not _hot_ ,” he said, his tongue curling around the word in disgust. Sirius stared down at him, expression open.

“You are, though,” he insisted quietly, the teasing tone lost. Snape was. Or if not hot, at least sexy. The kind of sexy that built with time.

Snape rolled his eyes. “I can assure you – physical attractiveness is not a particularly lauded attribute of mine, Black, as you have made so abundantly clear.”

“I was wrong,” Sirius whispered, unable to tear his gaze from Snape’s face. Snape still looked skeptical. “I mean, you’re not – you don’t look like me,” he said, unable to resist the urge to irk Snape. He scowled just as he expected and looked about to cut back when Sirius continued. He didn’t know what pushed him onwards, only that he needed to say it. “You’re like – like a work of art. Something striking.”

Snape snorted. “Yes, by a blind artist, I assume?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, by the one who’s been terrible since childhood but everyone feels too bad to tell him the truth,” he bantered, and he could have sworn he saw a flicker of a smile.

“Ah, yes. Colorblind, of course.”

“And after he injured his dominant hand,” Sirius quipped. “So it looks particularly atrocious.” Ah, there was the smile.

“I can perfectly envision it.”

“Good,” Sirius said, and then his eyes darkened and he stared at Snape with an intensity he hadn’t expected. Snape looked taken aback, eyes widening slightly. “You’re beautiful, Severus. I don’t know why. I don’t how. But you are. And I can’t look away.”

He kissed him so Snape couldn’t say anything that would embarrass him. Their bodies began to move against another, skin aflame with desire. Sirius could barely get enough of him, and Snape pressed against him with a passion that left him breathless.

He felt that something fragile breathed in the space between their bodies, and the sense of it pressing against his ribs made something crack within him.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius returned to his apartment with a smile on his face. After an actually constructive Order meeting, one where their revered spy had communicated important information, many of them had gone out for drinks afterward, and the mood had been happy and relaxed.

It was a spot of light amongst the dark shadows of the war, and he left elated and eager to see Snape and pull him into bed to make long, passionate love.

He started to plan out exactly what he would do – the way he would suck him off and then flip them over so that Snape could lean over him and thrust into him until their bodies devolved into pure beams of pleasure. He started to grow hard at the thought and quickly slipped inside.

He froze, eyes taking in Snape. Instead of his usual cool demeanor, Snape looked like he was…unravelling. He paced around the room, wringing his hands, and when he looked at Sirius, his expression conveyed panic and desperation.

He jolted when he saw Sirius and stumbled forward, breathing harshly. “Sirius,” he choked out. He shut his eyes and swallowed hard. “Sirius,” he repeated with a greater measure of control. Sirius felt a panic swell in him like a bubble – their first names were still sanctimonious.

“What-what is it?” he asked weakly, and Snape crossed the room to stand in front of him. He bit at his lip, brows furrowed, and looked tense, shoulders hunched forward.

“Your brother,” he whispered, and Sirius felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice on him.

“What-what about him?” he managed to ask, the fear in Snape’s eyes infectious.

"He-he wants to do something,” Snape said quickly and with a definite note of panic. “Something, I believe, will-will kill him. I don’t know. He helped me collect moonstones last night and he talked like-like,” he broke off, breathing hard. He ran his hands over his face and tried and failed to calm himself.

“Like what? Suicidal?” Sirius asked frantically, knowing he would have no clue if Regulus actually was. Fortunately, Snape shook his head.

“No, I mean-,” he stuttered, “He sounded…determined to do something. Something that meant he needed to say something like a goodbye to me. I can’t-,” he broke off, bending over slightly as he buried his face in his hands. Sirius lay a hand on his shoulder and tried to sound more in control than he felt.

“What did he say?” he asked firmly, tightening his grip on Snape’s shoulder. Snape exhaled heavily.

“He said…said the Dark Lord showed him something. And that he has an opportunity to do something about it. And that he wasn’t sure if he’ll make it out alive so that he wanted to thank me for trying…trying to stop him at first and watching out for him and-and being…a good friend,” Snape whispered brokenly, and Sirius winced at the pain and panic that laced his voice. “I tried to talk him out of it,” he continued. “He won’t listen. I thought, I thought you might-.”

"I’ll,” Sirius started, biting at the inside of his cheek and fighting against the fear ballooning in his stomach. He searched for a measure of strength, clutching desperately onto courageous resolve. Snape searched his eyes, lips white and face sallow. “Yes, okay,” he said firmly, voice sounding rough. “I’ll…try talking to him. But I can’t…can’t promise anything.”

“I know, I know, just…” Snape whispered hoarsely. He looked downward, and Sirius felt numb at how desperate Snape looked. He had now seen the man in many different states, but never like this.

“I’ll talk to him,” Sirius reassured, gripping both of Snape’s shoulders. The man blinked rapidly, and after a moment, Sirius pulled him into a hug.

Snape shuddered against him, hands grasping at Sirius’s lower back. “Thank you,” he whispered weakly. “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t ask, but I’m not sure what else to do.”

The words inspired a fierce protectiveness within him, and Padfoot snarled at Snape’s panic, an animalistic desire overcoming him to destroy what had inspired so much fear. The fact that Snape had come to him, sought out _his_ help, bolstered that emotion, sparking a deep rage at the forces intent on harming the one he _loved_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upon revision, I shifted a scene (the attack on the orphanage) around and ended up writing another 2k words for this chapter - that's why it's so long. But I am happy with the additions and needed a scene like this. 
> 
> Love all the comments/kudos/silent readers - I have officially written an ending to this story, so at the very least, this story will be completed - and a possible sequel if my writing takes me there.


	9. And Take A Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spotify Playlist:  
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6mBCh52nv9ycw8y20bqtjL?si=5_l6p5LuR1G-YvMRzcx1Vw)
> 
> If you have any song recommendations, I'd be happy to add them.

For the first time in nearly three years, Sirius sat across from his brother.

Regulus looked…older. The look in his eyes now ancient. A tension line that marred the smooth perfection of his face set firmly between his eyebrows. The dark smudges under his eyes, the thin pressing of lips, and the weight that now pressed against his shoulders.

It felt like centuries had passed from the time they spent as boys, running over to the park and speculating eagerly over Hogwarts. Decades from the sheltered, spoiled brat that Sirius viewed him as after he met James and started to deeply resent his family. Years from their last hateful argument where Sirius tore at Regulus’s friends and mocked his deference to their mother.

Pride had prevented them from speaking again, apologies an improbable prospect. They traveled different paths, never crossing until now.

Regulus regarded him warily, fingers drumming nervously against the café table. Snape had set up the meeting the day after his panicked plea, and Sirius had stormed into it, trying not to think of the emotional wound that festered between him and his brother: the sense of betrayal, of abandonment, of Sirius not being there, and of Reggie gaining the parental admiration Sirius always craved, despite his vehement denials.

“You look…older,” Sirius began, frowning. The words felt awkward, and Regulus frowned also, a deep gulf stretching between them.

“Would expect so,” Regulus said coolly, face muted. The silence stretched out uncomfortably, and Sirius fiddled with his fork.

“Still,” Sirius began hesitantly, “it’s good to see you.”

Regulus stared at him and leaned back in his chair. The stress line between his eyebrows deepened, and he crossed his arms.

“What do you want?” he asked slowly, regarding Sirius with weary resignation. Sirius’s frown deepened. He met Regulus’s gaze again, uncomfortable about the tired pain that lined the edges of his eyes.

“Um,” Sirius said, feeling nervous. He took a sip of the coffee and steadied himself. “Snape told me you’re-.”

“Yes, I know.” Regulus waved his hand dismissively. “Why were you talking with him?” His tone took on an edge, and Sirius glanced away again. He pondered over the truth but knew he had to modify the answer. Regulus was still a Death Eater and for all knew, would eagerly divulge Snape and his secret to his beloved Voldemort.

“He came to me,” Sirius answered, figuring it lay close enough to the truth. “He wanted me to talk some sense into you.”

Regulus scoffed, and an ugly look crossed his face. “I suppose you’ll pay for the check then?” he asked shortly. He grabbed at his jacket and prepared to leave. Sirius reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down.

“No, listen,” he pleaded. Regulus scoffed again but fortunately settled back in his seat.

“Any chance of me listening to you has passed, alright?” His lips twitched downward before he smoothed out his face. “And I can assure, there is nothing you can say to change my mind.”

Sirius fumbled, words lodging in his mouth like marbles. He shut his eyes again and thought of Snape’s face. He pushed on. “Snape said it sounds like you’re trying to kill yourself,” he explained, trying to mask his panic. Regulus shrugged.

“Possibly,” he responded apathetically. “And your point?”

Sirius rubbed at his jaw. “Neither of us want to you…to do that.”

Regulus laughed harshly. “Oh blimey, I hadn’t realized,” he said scathingly. “What? You suddenly decide to start caring now?”

Sirius felt guilt-stricken at the words and thought of him failing and abandoning his brother time and time again. He thought he should apologize, but the words stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t find the air.

“No,” he finally managed. “I always…” The look in Regulus’s eyes closed his throat, and he shied away from the words. A coward’s move, but he could do no better. “I hadn’t known.” Regulus looked at him incredulously and shook his head in disbelief. He closed his eyes and seemed to collect himself.

“Sirius,” he said, and Sirius noticed the quiet pain in his voice. “You’re my brother. We were, at one point, close. And I understand…” he trailed off, sighing. “I’m not changing my mind. No matter what you or Severus say. I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear. But I made my choice a long time ago.”

Sirius thought over the words and leaned forward. “Then let me help you,” he insisted, gripping at the edge of the table. Regulus met his gaze with forlorn eyes and shook his head.

“No,” he whispered. Sirius persisted.

“I’m in the Order, Reggie. I can get Dumbledore to help. You don’t have to do this alone.” At his words, Regulus’s face contorted in anger and then froze, smoothing out again with apparent conscious effort. Sirius watched as worry weighted in his chest.

Regulus looked to his side and sighed again. “Like I said, I’m sorry, Sirius. But this isn’t…isn’t anything you can fix. It’s far too late for that.”

Sirius shook his head, “No, listen, Dumbledore, he’s-.”

Regulus’s eyes flashed towards him, consumed with a fury he hadn’t expected. “I’m not submitting myself to another master,” he hissed, “Like I said, Sirius, I’m sorry.”

Sirius stared wide-eyed at him and watched as his brother struggled with a deep pain and a resolute determination. He wondered with a sense of loss about what had happened to the little brother who would whisper stories in the middle of the night and fight against the waves of the ocean they visited as children. That little brother was gone. Only, this man, this Regulus, remained.

Regulus seemed to regain control of himself after another moment of conscious effort. He stared coolly at Sirius. “Anything else?” he drawled, and Sirius gaped before closing his mouth quickly. He thought frantically over what else he could say, but Regulus had closed himself off tightly from him.

"Snape,” he choked out. Regulus arched an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. Sirius drew in a steadying breath. “What, you’re just going to go off yourself? After everything he’s done for you? And knowing what it will do to him?”

Something glinted in Regulus’s eyes, but the rest of his face froze. “Don’t speak of him,” he muttered. “You have no right to speak of him.”

Sirius continued, knowing this had to be the only way. “You should have seen him,” he said accusingly, “Practically falling apart with the thought of losing you. I mean, he even came to _me._ And you’re going to do that to him?”

Regulus clenched his fists until his knuckles turned a splotchy pink. He breathed in quick, short breaths and appeared to fight between an eerie impassiveness and shameful guilt. “Shut up,” he muttered darkly.

Sirius didn’t. “You’re what, one of his only friends? And you’re going to hurt him like that? Abandon him for what? Sure hope it’s something more important than your friendship.”

A nerve in Regulus’s jaw twitched. “Shut up!” he snarled, the ferocity of it stunning Sirius into silence. He closed his eyes, lines harsh against his face. “Why the hell would you care about him?”

“Because…Reggie, none of us want to lose you,” he answered, shying away from the truth of the matter. He wasn’t ready to admit something like that. Regulus didn’t speak for several long moments, chest inflating rapidly.

“Like I said,” he gritted out, “I made this decision a long time ago. And Severus tried to stop me, but I was stupid and didn’t listen.”

“Becoming a Death Eater,” Sirius clarified blandly, and Regulus opened his eyes to dart around the room. Tension radiated from him, but no one seemed to notice. “Reggie,” Sirius continued carefully, “It’s not too late. You can still join the Light. Stop Voldemort.” Regulus flinched at the name like Snape always did. “But you don’t have to die for it. Not like this. It’s not too late.”

Regulus looked like he was wavering, looked about ready to agree, when he hissed out in pain and grabbed at his left forearm. Sirius could practically see the Dark Mark through his dark shirt, and when Regulus looked back at him, Sirius could only see cold resolution, and he knew he had lost.

“You’ll break his heart,” he murmured, staring sadly at his brother. Regulus only blinked slowly, gaze now shuttered and face completely smooth.

“It’s war, brother,” he said indifferently. Sirius couldn’t argue, and his heart ached for Snape, for the loss that would surely come. And then a terrible sense of grief befell him because not only would Snape lose his friend, but he would lose his _brother_.

He wanted to cry. To scream. To involve their mother. To tie Reggie down. To do anything.

But it _was_ war, so Regulus muttered that he had to go with a glance down at his left forearm. Before he apparated away, he looked once again at Sirius, and his gaze softened slightly.

“I’m sorry, brother,” he murmured. “I wish there was any other way.”

“There is,” Sirius protested desperately, but with a loud crack, Regulus was gone and he was left alone, holding his now cold coffee.

**++++++++++++**

That night, he told Snape about his conversation with Regulus. He stuttered over the words, unwilling to admit his defeat.

Sirius practically watched the hope die in Snape’s eyes. When he tried to touch Snape and offer some comfort, Snape pulled away, flinching from his touch. He muttered something about needing to check on potions, and Sirius didn’t know what else to say.

He left. Sirius spent the night alone, feeling more forlorn and despondent than he had ever felt before.

The war weighed against him and suffocated. Sirius wondered if he would ever breathe fresh air into his lungs or just continue to taste the bitter staleness of loss and defeat that even whiskey couldn’t drown out.

He fell asleep in a drunken stupor, cheeks wet with tears for the brother he had abandoned.

**++++++++++++**

The next week morphed into a tense, horrific time. Even though Snape continued to slip quietly into Sirius’s apartment, he remained mentally elsewhere – lost with Regulus in his suicidal mission.

They didn’t speak much. Conversations became routine as Snape no longer wanted to engage. Sirius didn’t push him.

The sex turned more into an apology to Snape than anything else. Sirius tried, desperate for a way to atone for his failure, but Snape responded with lackluster. They became bodies going through the motions, and eventually, Sirius gave up on his efforts.

The tension radiating off Snape sickened him. He worried about his brother ceaselessly, but there was nothing either of them could do. Regulus had set his mind against whatever either could throw at him.

Sirius, however, clung onto hope that Regulus would emerge from his mission alive. He had opened the Order to him and had offered had a place for Regulus to flee from Voldemort. Betrayal didn’t have to equal death.

Snape expressed less hope, and Sirius, growing increasingly frantic, scribbled out a letter to Regulus.

He swallowed his pride and finally, after years and years, apologized. He wrote of the love he always had for Reggie, despite every terrible thing he had done and said. He explained and apologized and begged Reggie to understand that Sirius loved him and saw him as someone wonderful and brave – perhaps even braver than Sirius for he had not run away and cast aside anyone he saw as inconvenient. Sirius had lost his way and in doing so had lost Reggie, and he would do anything to repent.

He surprised himself at the honesty and sincerity of the words, for he had always hated admitting his faults. Now, though, pride meant nothing in the face of losing his brother.

Finally, he pleaded with Regulus to come back to him, to listen to Snape, and to choose another path. He sent the letter off, fingers stained with ink and heart breaking with the weight of it.

It would have tormented him if his last words to his brother were from that argument and seethed with hatred, so he shook with gratitude and relief that he had the chance to try to correct his errors.

He never heard back from Reggie, but he hoped he had received and read it and that it gave him some peace in his final days.

It was in an Order meeting, a few days later, when he finally heard. Dorcas Meadows had brought in the note and handed it to him before the start of the meeting. He immediately recognized the spidery scrawl and opened it with great trepidation.

_Regulus has passed. I only just heard from the Dark Lord. The circumstances are unclear, and the Dark Lord is quiet on it, but I believe it was a betrayal. He would have died on the side of the light if that brings you some peace. I am not certain I will be able to retrieve his body, but I will try. I am sorry, Sirius._

_S._

Some of the words had splotched as if Snape had cried while writing. He regarded the note distantly, feeling very far from his body. He scanned it over again, the words clear but not resulting in any response besides a great emptiness.

Reggie. Dead.

Surely, he should feel some emotion over those words. But no, just a swallowing emptiness.

James was the first to notice because he turned to Sirius. “Everything alright?” he asked concerned, and it took a long moment for Sirius to remember how to speak.

"Yeah,” he said numbly. “It’s Regulus. He’s dead.”

Every conversation in the room ceased, but Sirius didn’t realize over the loud rushing in his head. His hands had started to tremble, and he crumpled the note in his hands.

He stood shakily and left before anyone could comment. The rushing became a roaring, and he started to grow very frightened at what was to come. He heard James follow him, but he didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to try to explain, so he rushed out the door and transformed into Padfoot. He ran out into the street, paws pounding hard against the pavement.

As Padfoot, it was slightly easier, but he couldn’t stop himself from whimpering. He ran until his paws bled. He collapsed on the ground, spent and trembling against the diluted grief.

It took a long time before he risked transforming back, and the grief hit him like a wave, cresting in mindless agony. He felt himself drown.

**++++++++++++**

When he finally pulled himself back to his apartment, Snape was there, crumpled in the armchair. Their eyes met, both red from tears, and the grief lay heavy in them.

For the first time, they shared an emotion other than hatred, and it should have reassured him, this companion against the torment of loss.

But it didn’t because Sirius didn’t want a companion. He wanted someone to blame other than himself. He wanted a reason besides his own failures. A scapegoat to help numb the pain.

And Severus Snape, with his grief-stricken eyes and the Dark Mark on his forearm, made the perfect one.

The fight was the ugliest he ever had with anyone. Sirius screamed, lashing at Snape with every weapon he possessed – raging about Snape failing to protect Reggie, about Snape leading Reggie into the hands of the Dark Lord. He knew how to wound Snape after all those soft confessions, and the words flew out of his mouth, poignant in their hatred.

Snape responded with violent snarls about Sirius’s mockery of brotherhood, about how he had abandoned Regulus and left him vulnerable to the Dark Lord’s forces and could only blame himself for Reggie’s actions. As Sirius grew louder, Snape grew quieter, faces contorted with pure, undulated anger.

The fight ended with Sirius throwing a mug at Snape’s head, and it shattered violently against the wall. Snape hissed one final insult, a great hateful thing that made Sirius’s head swim, and he left with Sirius shouting hateful words behind him, door slamming shut behind him.

Sirius paced and screamed and imagined hurting Snape with every ounce of pain that now clawed into his body. It made him feel better, if only for a moment.

Then the rage tired him out, and he collapsed onto the couch. No matter how much whiskey he drank, he couldn’t hide from the scathing shame and guilt and grief that tore his soul into shreds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, poor Regulus. My story, Burning Doves, covers his life in greater detail but I'm on the firm belief that he's an absolute sweetheart who didn't deserve anything bad to happen to him. 
> 
> And that fallout...
> 
> I have also found myself in the midst of 650k fic called A Difference in the Family - it's a classic Snape fic and can only be found on FF.net but I am obsessed and spend every free moment reading it (which isn't great for my writing but I'm hoping once I emerge out the other end, I'll be a little bit saner). Highly suggest - if you've got the time and energy for something of that length.


	10. Sweet Smell Of Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spotify Playlist:  
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6mBCh52nv9ycw8y20bqtjL?si=5_l6p5LuR1G-YvMRzcx1Vw)
> 
> If you have any song recommendations, I'd be happy to add them!

After a few weeks, the grief morphed into a parasitic presence that embedded itself in his soul, but one that Sirius gradually learned to live with.

His brother was still dead, the grief lay heavily against him, but James and Remus had pulled him through the worst of it. The war pushed onwards, and he had to do his part.

He hadn’t talked to Snape. He tried not to think of him anymore. 

The war intensified, becoming a great, ugly beast that threatened to consume any of them. They grew sick with worry and fear and the seeming inevitability of loss. It felt for every victory, they suffered fifty defeats.

Regardless, they fought on, hoping against hope that dawn would finally come and dispel the darkness consuming the world.

In the midst of it, Marlene McKinnon, a Ravenclaw with sea-blue eyes and long strawberry-blonde hair, approached him after an Order meeting.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened to your brother,” she said empathetically, eyes shining with concern. Sirius swallowed hard and nodded. 

"Thanks,” he murmured. Marlene searched his eyes for a moment and then pulled him into a loose hug and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. Sirius watched her as the impression of her lips tingled against his cheek. It pressed something against his chest, and he swallowed hard again, but for a different reason. She turned to leave, offering another soft smile.

She had nearly stepped outside when Sirius called out her name and asked if she wanted to get a drink. Marlene startled, seeming apprehensive, but the look in Sirius’s eyes set at her ease, and she agreed.

They went to the Leaky Cauldron together, and they talked quietly about the war and their fears. He found Marlene kind and empathetic and unflinching in her desire to destroy Voldemort.

Sirius kissed her at the end of it, her lips soft against his. It felt nice. Not like how he kissed Snape which always had a deep, almost violent, undercurrent of desire, but nice. Safe. Comforting.

After a moment, she pulled away and smiled, tilting her face to stare up at him.

“I’ve heard about you, Sirius Black,” she teased, and Sirius arched an eyebrow.

“Heard what?” he asked innocently.

Marlene laughed and shook her head. “That you’re quite the flirt.”

Sirius grinned and shrugged. “Maybe,” he said easily, and Marlene laughed again. Sirius decided he liked the sound of her laughter – it sounded bright and free.

"You’ll have to try a bit harder with me,” she said with another easy smile. Sirius laughed and asked her to dinner, and after another moment, Marlene agreed, shaking her head in mock resignation. Heart thrilling with anticipation, Sirius kissed her again, decidedly did not think of Snape, and thought of Marlene and what she could mean.

They went their separate ways, and Sirius, for the first time since Regulus’s death, had something to look forward to.

**++++++++++++**

Dinner went well, and they exchanged more kisses, lips settling comfortably against the others. He found he quite liked Marlene with her witty comments and interest in his motorbike and her sparkling sea-blue eyes.

It took another three dates for him to get her in bed, but by that time, it had gotten out in the Order that they were dating. Everyone congratulated them, which made Marlene blush and Sirius laugh.

She was a kind lover, and Sirius found he liked sleeping with her. There was something steady about it, a grounding clarity in who she was and what she meant to him. They would fall asleep entangled with each other, her body soft and curved against Sirius’s.

She laughed easily, didn’t tolerate his bullshit, and cared for him in a way that should have left him speechless.

But it didn’t. He tried not to think of why. 

**++++++++++++**

"Happy birthday,” Marlene murmured, pulled close against Sirius. She ran a hand up and down his arm and smiled into his chest. “Twenty-one, huh?”

Sirius smiled in return, running his hand through her long hair and reveling in its silkiness. “Twenty-one,” he repeated, feeling both old but on the brink of something great.

Marlene kissed him. “Don’t worry, babe,” she said lightly. “I got Molly to make your cake.” Sirius sighed in relief. For Marlene’s many wonderful qualities, she was unfortunately a terrible cook. He had learned quickly to avoid anything she prepared. “But I do have a present for you,” she continued. They made love in the soft morning light.

**++++++++++++**

“So who do you think our spy is?” James asked over the kitchen table. Dumbledore had decided it would be best for them to spend as much time as possible in the cottage at Godric’s Hollow to preempt any attacks on little Harry. They had agreed, of course, but it meant that drinks now occurred with a touch of domesticity. 

“Our spy?” Peter asked a shade too quickly. “Oh, I mean,” he corrected. “I don’t know.”

James considered his answer, frowning as if he had expected more, and glanced around the table. “Anyone else?” he asked.

Lily shrugged. “Could be anyone, James. And it’s not like Albus will ever say anything incriminating.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be right. Just who we think it could be,” James replied, taking another drink of his butterbeer. Lily thought for another moment. 

“Well, I hope it would be Severus,” she said, and Sirius froze at the name and tried very hard not to let anything cross his eyes. “But I mean, I don’t know.” Her gaze turned inward and her expression darkened before she jolted herself out of it. “Marlene?” Marlene looked upwards as she thought. 

“I don’t remember much about Snape from Hogwarts,” she said slowly, and Sirius focused on keeping himself as still as possible, face remaining a disinterested mask. His heart pounded inside his chest, and his hands grew sweaty, but he ignored it. She paused, considering the question of their spy and the possibility of Snape.

“It wouldn’t be him,” Sirius interrupted suddenly, surprising himself. He didn’t know why, didn’t want to think on his motivations, but dimly recognized that even if the idea did make quite a bit of sense, especially with the Snape he now knew, it wouldn’t serve him for the idea to take root and start to spread. 

“Huh?” Marlene asked, surprised as at his reaction. “Oh, I don’t know babe.” Lily frowned and looked aside. Everyone else watched him closely

“It wouldn’t,” Sirius reaffirmed, scowling.

“You don’t know that,” Lily countered, anger flashing through her eyes.

Sirius snorted, and the bitter anger he had carried since Regulus’s death settled on his face. Before he could respond, Marlene rested a hand on his arm.

“Yeah, we don’t. It’s probably not best to talk about it anyway,” she mediated, and Lily glanced away. Sirius stared into his lap, feeling distressed over the sudden surges of protectiveness and hatred and guilt and love at the mention of Snape. He felt a little light-headed from talking about him to everyone; he had avoided speaking of Snape to his friends for a while now. 

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, frowning. “But whoever it is has got to be a hero. You know, with betraying Voldemort and all that. Can’t be easy.”

Peter muttered out a weak agreement, but the jovial mood had been lost. Shortly after, Marlene and Sirius made their excuses and headed back to his apartment.

Marlene gratefully didn’t comment on his frosty mood, allowing him to fume in their bedroom alone.

**++++++++++++**

“I love you,” Sirius said, feeling bold but also a little guilty. He thought saying the words would make them true, and he felt bad to lie.

Marlene looked up at him, head resting in on his shoulder and soft hair spread across the pillow. "You do, Sirius Black?” she asked, a teasing smile on her face.

Sirius nodded, tamping down on the worsening guilt. “Well, then I love you too,” Marlene said quietly, and then she laughed and kissed him. Sirius felt like something had to be deeply broken inside him to still want Snape while he lay in bed with the girl he had just told he loved.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius decided he would propose to her after Christmas.

He wanted what James had, and he cared for Marlene and thought she would make a beautiful wife.

He snuck James out of Godric’s Hallow to help him pick out an engagement ring. Sirius’s mind started to swim after what felt like the hundredth option, and he was grateful for James’s presence as he seemed much more familiar with the process. It took longer than he had liked, but James and he finally settled on an elegant ring – a silver band with a diamond in the middle and a small ruby and sapphire on either side.

Sirius found it beautiful and meaningful and recommitted to his belief Marlene was the one. He ignored his heart's irrational claims and pushed his worry and confusion aside. In the light of day, he only wanted Marlene.

Late at night, though, he no longer felt to so certain and would try to make sense of his head and his heart.

Marlene was the kind of girl he was supposed to marry. They made a good couple, her kindness and compassion balancing out the harsher elements of his personality. They would have beautiful children that would grow up alongside James’s and Lily’s, perhaps a boy and a girl with Sirius’s hair and cheekbones and her eyes and nose.

In a right, just world, he would fall in love with her easily and quickly. She ticked every box, meant far more than those nameless girls at the bars, and he _wanted_ to love her. He could think of no reason not to.

In the early hours of the morning, he would channel everything he had into trying to fall in love with her. He would run his hands through her soft hair as she slept and over the curve of her shoulder and imagine them together and old and happy. He would think of their wedding, resplendent in hydrangeas and dahlias and roses and of their children, one too smart for her own good and one with gifted at Transfiguration, just like Sirius. He thought of their home and of their life and of her kind eyes and sparkling humor and clever witticisms and how his hands felt on her hips and the satin of her inner thighs.

He pushed as hard as he could for his heart to feel something more than gentle affection and fondness and companionship. He didn’t need the fiery, consuming blaze he had felt for Snape. He didn’t need a love that could halt the world. He just needed his heart to listen.

But it didn’t because his heart, despite everything, still ached for Severus Snape.

He hadn’t seen him since Regulus’s death, not since that fight in which they had weaponized words as knives. He did everything he could to block him from his thoughts, trying to reassure himself that this needed to happen, that Snape and their relationship could never have lasted. He missed him, he knew that with frustrating certainty, but he ignored it. One did not miss a Death Eater, and that was what Snape was, regardless of whatever else he had done.

However, he found himself in the irritating predicament as everything Marlene did begged comparison. He knew it was wrong to compare lovers, and he knew Marlene was by far the better person, but his heart didn’t care or concede that point.

Rather, he would eat Marlene’s burned toast, for she was a terrible cook, and think of Snape’s omelet. He would see her unmarked body and miss Snape’s scars and the internal strength they conferred. He would talk to her after sex, the sweet nothings that Sirius had once enjoyed but now found negligible after what he had he would hear from Snape in the quiet shadows of the night. He felt terrible, awash with a sickening shame.

He decided if he couldn’t force his heart to listen, he could at least do so with his mind. He remained insistent that Marlene was right and true and superior to that greasy snake. And she was, truly. Snape was an ugly thing that hid under rocks, while Marlene belonged in a field of wildflowers with sunlight streaming across her face.

And that was the sort of person he should want in his life. Someone who would make him a better man; not someone who mocked his faults and took every opportunity to tear him down.

So he pushed Snape out of his mind, ignored his heart, and redoubled every effort with Marlene for he could not so easily give up on her light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to seriously rework parts of this chapter as the progression felt off, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I didn't want Marlene to be some throw-away pretty female or a "villain", so hopefully, she comes across as more - but still not the one for Sirius. 
> 
> This is also the first time (I believe) that I've included the Marauders + Lily. Lily's relationship with Severus is fascinating to me and I like to err on the side of her continuing to care about him - circumstances tore them apart but a change in circumstances would also bring them together (an excellent fanfic about them is called Come Once Again and Love Me by laventadorn - strongly recommend if you would like to read more on them).
> 
> As always, thank you!


	11. Have Come At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some smut in the beginning of it.

The day before Christmas Eve, Moody called an Order meeting. He cited an emergency, but Sirius figured it would be another paranoid rant from the gruff auror. 

Everyone grudgingly filtered in, seeming somewhat upset at the impromptu meeting during the holidays. However, they could not dismiss him so easily, especially given the fact that Moody tended to be right.

They settled around the large wooden table, and Remus and Lily passed around butterbeers. James and Sirius exchanged a look, preparing themselves for Moody to start speaking. Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and he thought James did the same. 

The room quieted, and Moody starting describing recent Death Eater movements; he theorized they were planning something for shortly after Christmas.

Dumbledore watched him grimly and nodded, steepling his fingers in thought.

Towards the end, Moody asked if their spy had reported anything. At the mention of the turned Death Eater, everyone perked up. Dumbledore had maintained complete secrecy around his identity, which only turned him into a pestering mystery. Sirius stared closely at Dumbledore to see if some tic in his expression would offer some hint; he saw nothing.

Dumbledore only shook his head and began to stroke his beard, looking worried as he did so.

They spent the next hour preparing for the possibility of a public Death Eater attack. They went over logistics and assigned roles. Sirius volunteered for the response team, eager at the opportunity to hex some Death Eaters. Marlene did the same, blue eyes flashing and mouth set in determination.

The fact that she did aroused him, and as soon as the meeting drew to a close, he stood and pulled her to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him, cheeks flush and breath coming out in short pants. Marlene smirked as she leaned in to kiss him and settle her hand on his crotch.

Sirius moaned into her mouth, and he felt her hot breath and slick heat and the hint of a smile. She kissed him deeply and then she slid onto her knees. She unbuttoned his trousers and pulled his hardening cock out of his pants.

She held it for a moment and stroked it softly, glancing up when Sirius tried to suppress a moan. She tilted her head and then moved forward to bring his cock to her lips.

Sirius immediately lost himself to the feel of her mouth around him and how her one hand stroked underneath to his balls and how she would glance up, blue eyes meeting gray.

Sirius came with his hands buried in her hair. Marlene coughed for a moment and then smiled up at him, licking a few drops of his cum from her lips. Sirius’s knees nearly gave out on him from that alone.

She noticed because she smiled and tugged at his side to pull him down to her.

He slid down the door and kissed her again, the saltiness on her tongue driving him wild. As he kissed her, he slipped one hand down to press upwards between her thighs, pushing her skirt upwards. Marlene gasped.

He could feel the wetness of arousal through her underwear and pushed the fabric aside to run a finger over the swelling mound of flesh. Marlene shuddered and wrapped her arms around Sirius’s neck to pull him closer. He smiled into her cheek, marveling when the movements of his fingers caused her to start panting.

She spread her legs further apart, and Sirius slipped one finger into her. The tight heat made him moan, and he used his other hand to prop himself up. Marlene clung onto him, her moans growing more frantic as Sirius continued to rub at that small nub of hardness and move his fingers in and out.

He kissed openly at her ear and jaw, and the sweet smell of roses drifted over him as he breathed deeply into her hair. She cried out, and Sirius increased his pace to her growing pleasure.

“Oh, god, oh Sirius – more, _more_ , god, Sirius-,” she moaned against his cheek. Sirius dutifully did as she asked, slipping in another finger but maintaining the stimulation on her clitoris. She would not come from penetration alone, and Sirius would make sure she did.

Her moans increased in frequency, and Sirius increased his pace yet again, growing almost frantic in his movements. Marlene jerked against him, grip becoming almost painfully tight as her nails dug into the top of his back. He didn’t care, didn’t stop, knew she was close and –

She cried out and threw her head back. She shuddered and her hands spasmed and then collapsed onto him, seeming nearly boneless.

He held her and waited for her to slowly come back to herself. He stroked her hair, and Marlene shifted her head to kiss him. The kiss was soft and open, and Sirius desperately willed himself to feel a swoop of love.

He didn’t, but he figured the tenderness and affection he did feel was close enough. 

They held each other for a while as they enjoyed each other’s presence and reveled in their shared act of love.

Finally, Marlene pushed him off, scoffing at Sirius’s grin and shoving playfully at his shoulder. Sirius laughed, and then Marlene did too, eyes bright and smile wide and happy. Sirius kissed her again, tasted the laughter on her lips.

They straightened out their clothes, did their best to look like they had not just been fucking, and slipped out of the bathroom. They walked towards the entrance, and Sirius interlaced their fingers, leaning over to press a kiss into her soft hair.

As they passed the meeting room, Sirius heard a voice that froze him to the spot. Marlene jerked back as he stopped. She looked at him with worry and glanced towards the closed door.

“Everything okay, baby?” she asked confused, but Sirius couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. There was no way. There was _no_ way. There was no way-

The door to the meeting room opened and for the first time since Regulus’s death, Sirius met Severus Snape’s black, endless eyes.

Snape blinked and froze, face becoming a passive mask. However, Sirius could still pick up the slight tensing of his shoulders. The short catch in his breath. The firming of his jaw. He still knew the intimate tells that clearly gave away the fact that Snape was panicking.

“Severus,” Dumbledore began but paused when he saw Sirius and Marlene standing frozen in the hallway. He sighed seriously and indicated for them to cross the threshold and close the door behind them.

Snape did so, and it was only with Marlene’s gentle shove that Sirius got his legs to move.

He stumbled into the room, and the whole time, he couldn’t take his eyes from Snape, couldn’t look away from his still-lank hair and the sallow paleness of his face and the crooked hook of his nose and his thin, narrow mouth, and his eyes, oh lord his eyes.

They stared defiantly back at him, and there was no question about it anymore. He adored Marlene, found her wonderful and insightful and kind, but dear lord, he would drown himself in Snape’s obsidian gaze. He would fill his lungs with the defiant anger and quiet strength that blazed through them. He wanted nothing in this world than more to cross the room and kiss that ugly mouth until he suffocated in Snape’s grip.

And he realized with a start how much he had missed Snape. How much he missed not just the sex but also his soft, cool voice in the late hours of the night, and that small smile of his in the morning, and his reassuring presence, and his fierce protectiveness for the people he valued, and for all of it. All of him.

Guilt surged in him over their fight. His betrayal. He knew Regulus’s death had been hard on him. On both of them. And even if he wanted to solely blame Snape, they both bore responsibility. And he speculated that dealing with their grief would have been made easier by each other’s presence.

He wanted to scream because there had to be something seriously wrong with him. To give up on Marlene over…over something ugly and bitter and cruel.

But it didn’t matter. His heart cried out for Snape, for those unflinching eyes, and he thought he might confess everything right there.

Fortunately, he stood frozen by the shocking crash of revelations. None of it slipped through his lips, and his face remained blank despite the tempest roaring inside him. His hand remained tightly grasped in Marlene’s, but he felt numb, unable to process anything beyond the look in Snape’s eyes.

“Sirius,” Dumbledore said, and when Sirius broke out of his thoughts enough to glance at him, the concern in his face seemed to indicate that he had repeated Sirius’s name too many times for comfort. “Sirius, Marlene, I need the both of you to listen to me closely.”

Sirius jerkily nodded, but Marlene stepped forward and spoke.

“You’re Severus Snape, right?” she asked as Snape regarded her warily. “Lily’s friend? Or I mean-.”

“Yes,” Snape said curtly, and the low, soft tones of his voice cut straight into Sirius. It felt like coming home after a long absence. It felt like returning to Hogwarts after his hellish summers. It felt like everything he loved.

“You’re-,” Marlene continued, steadying her voice. “You’re our spy?” Sirius felt all the air leave the room as Snape gave a small nod.

“Our spy?” Sirius repeated strangled. Snape only stared back at him, expression unreadable.

Dumbledore sighed. “Yes, Severus has been spying for us for some time.”

Sirius felt the floor fall out him underneath him, and all their conversations now felt tinted with that fact. He wondered when Snape had betrayed Voldemort and if that had been one of the days where he had ended up falling asleep in Sirius’s arms.

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed at his reaction, and he frowned slightly. “Now, Marlene and Sirius, you both must understand this is an incredibly sensitive matter. The protection of Severus’s identity and his continued wellbeing is essential in our fight against Voldemort.” And just as Sirius had expected, as he had practically seen in the moments before, Snape flinched at the name.

“Why is-why is he here then?” Marlene asked concerned, face sober.

“One of your group suspected a possible attack by the Death Eaters. The Headmaster quickly needed my insight into the matter.” Snape frowned, and Sirius wanted to drown himself in that voice. His yearning for the man frightened him. “Unfortunately, it, ah, appears to have created more of a problem than it solved.”

“Yes, my apologies, Severus.” Dumbledore paused, thinking, and Sirius felt his cheeks scald. “What were the two of you doing to remain here so late?”

Marlene blushed, and Snape’s eyes narrowed. Sirius had to tamp down on the need to pull the man into his arms and assure him that no one compared to him. That Sirius could live without anyone else, except him.

He wondered with a worsening sense of trepidation what the hell was wrong with him.

“Ah,” Dumbledore said knowingly. ‘Well, I believe we’ll leave it at that. Do you two understand the severity of the situation?”

Marlene murmured a yes, and Sirius managed another nod. Dumbledore tilted his head and considered him.

“I would have expected more of a reaction from you, Sirius,” he said, and Sirius could hear his rabbit-quick heartbeat in his ears. He swallowed hard against a lump in his throat, and for one irrational moment considered just blurting it all out and distantly watching the chaos. Luckily, Snape beat him to it.

“Silence serves Black best,” he insulted coolly. “Spares the rest of us from his pathetic array of thoughts.” Sirius felt no anger at it, only an overwhelming and strange sort of relief. “Now, Headmaster, I really should be going. It’s not safe for me to stay much longer. I assume you’ll take care of this?” His voice remained neutral, and Sirius knew he was using all his control in doing so. He could read it in the whitening of his knuckles as Snape clasped his hands to his side. In the slight tension around his eyes. In the way he stood – rigid and straight. 

“Yes, thank you, Severus. _Nullus Sermonis_ should keep this secret well enough. It will prevent either of you from providing details to identify Severus as the spy, even in the face of more extreme methods. Marlene? Sirius?”

Marlene nodded, and Sirius did the same a moment later as the words had to fight through chaos inside his head. He suddenly felt the need to say something but couldn’t get enough air to push any words past the lump in his throat.

Snape nodded and regarded the two of them coolly once more. His eyes lingered on Sirius for a moment longer, and Sirius would have lunged forwards if his feet weren’t rooted to the floor. He blinked and then moved quickly across the room, slipping out without another word.

Snape’s absence felt like a physical bruise against his skin. He felt very cold, despite the warmth emanating from Marlene.

“Sirius?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah,” he forced out past the cloying lump in his throat. With Snape now gone, he found he could once again get air to his lungs and quiet the cacophony resounding in his head.

“Are you alright?” she asked, and he saw Dumbledore’s eyes narrow out of the corner of his vision. He wondered if the man knew. If anyone could puzzle through his reaction and hit the truth of the matter, it would be Dumbledore.

“Yeah,” he tried again, voice regaining its strength. He swallowed and found the clarity to slip back into his usual act. Despite Snape’s new position, it still wouldn’t be great to let it slip to his soon-to-be fiancée that Snape had an impossibly strong sexual hold on Sirius. That all it took was one glance of Snape’s eyes for Sirius to feel the world spin out of its axis.

Also, Snape was his secret. He still felt a fierce protectiveness for the man; Snape was _his_ , and he had no interest in sharing him with others.

Dumbledore nodded, but his eyes didn’t lose their intensity. Sirius itched under his piercing gaze. “I’m sure it would come as quite a surprise to you, Sirius, given your past with Mr. Snape. However, you must assure me you recognize the delicacy of this situation. The more people who know of Mr. Snape’s role, the greater the risk to his safety and continued efforts. And his role now, as it stands, is invaluable to the Order.” Dumbledore’s voice was low and pressing. It remained calm but hinted at Dumbledore’s power, and Sirius knew if it was between him and Snape, Dumbledore would choose to protect Snape. He suppressed the urge to break into hysterical giggles over it.

“I understand,” he assured, and he meant it. He had seen what other Death Eaters had done to Snape, seen the fear in his eyes as he spoke of Voldemort, and he understood that spreading this secret would result in something worse than death for the Slytherin. And even if he still had hated Snape, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one, not even greasy spiders, deserved what would be done to him in the face of his betrayal.

His response seemed to surprise Dumbledore, who Sirius figured had expected a far more dramatic reaction. If Sirius hadn’t gotten to know the Snape behind the bitter mask, he probably would have. He would have laughed and derided and hissed in anger and disbelief. He would have insisted Snape was fooling Dumbledore, that Snape had no soul that could express regret or remorse, and that he would never turn away from the Dark Arts.

But Snape had tried to stop Reggie from joining the Death Eaters. And that meant something.

Marlene, who had never known Snape, took it well, and they conceded to Dumbledore’s spell. It cast a light blue hue around their throats, and when Sirius tried to name Snape as the spy, the words lodged in his throat.

They turned to leave, but before they did, Sirius forced out a question that had started to burn in his chest.

“Why did-why did he turn?” he asked, still finding it difficult to breathe. Dumbledore regarded him, blue eyes searching his.

“Sometimes the choices we make have already been determined. Sometimes they are less of choices than they are steps forward.” Dumbledore paused, thinking, but didn’t continue. Marlene’s sea-blue eyes stared at him confused and concerned, but Sirius understood.

Regulus had said the same.

**++++++++++++**

Marlene and Sirius apparated back to his apartment, and he could tell she wanted to talk to him about it. She wouldn’t have known Snape at Hogwarts as only the Slytherins had endured his presence. Her friendship with Lily had bloomed after they graduated, and by that time, Lily’s pitying friendship with Snape had been long forgotten.

However, the Marauders’ noble fight against the weird creep had spread across House lines and dominated students’ conversations. Everyone knew of James and Sirius’s crusade against the resentful, dark-arts-loving Slytherin. And so Marlene expected Sirius to have much to say.

“Sirius?” she asked expectantly. Sirius couldn’t stand the thought of talking about it with her. Even Padfoot growled inside him as she threatened his territorial lines. To discuss Snape with her felt sullying. Whether or not it sullied Snape or Marlene, he couldn’t tell, but it felt _wrong._

Her expectation and assumption he would talk made anger burn behind his eyes, and he knew he needed to leave or else he would start yelling at her. Avoiding her gaze, he grabbed the keys for his motorcycle and muttering some excuse, stormed out the door.

He felt her shocked gaze on his back, and that made him angrier for some reason, rage pulsing alongside his heartbeat. Who was she to expect him to talk of Snape? To relive the years of what he recognized now as bullying? To mock and ridicule a boy who he now realized had nothing? To admit to the relationship they had built after weeks of depraved hate sex? To express his yearning for the man, even though her engagement ring rested in his bedside drawer?

Who did Marlene McKinnon think she was? To expect him to speak about _Severus Snape_?

The anger made his teeth ache and eyes burn, and he revved the engine and took off, flying along the cold, gray streets. He pushed himself faster until he couldn’t think past the instantaneous reactions necessary to avoid spiraling out of control. Every near-miss exhilarated, the spike of mingling fear and relief nearly enough to distract him from the torment in his head.

Only the dull repetitiveness of his breathing marked the time, and he quickly lost track of it. He rode until the sun started to set, and the air started to freeze around him. He pulled to the side of the road and leaned forward. He crossed his arms on the handlebars and rested his head against them, shivering from both the cold and the fury in his head.

He thought about Snape, about him betraying Voldemort, and about Regulus and their shared guilt. He thought about Snape’s cool, unflinching gaze, about Marlene’s soft strawberry-blond hair, and about who he wanted in bed and who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He thought of himself, his traitorous heart and his monstrous soul.

He shuddered against the onslaught, flushed with shame and guilt, and unable to breathe past the metal bands clamping across his chest.

Finally, face stinging and chest tight, he gazed up into the sky. He spotted his namesake quickly; it was the brightest star in the night sky after all. He searched on the horizon for Leo, in which Regulus resided. He couldn’t find it, and that thought finally made him cry. He pressed his hand against his mouth to smother the ugly sobs, and he realized, far too late, that he would have wanted nothing more than Snape and Regulus together as he teased his brother and kissed his lover.

His soul ached at the realization that he had lost both of them. Regulus gone forever, and Snape…

Snape.

With much-needed clarity, he knew he had to speak to the man again. To explain himself and beg for forgiveness.

He knew, in doing so, he would lose Marlene. He was surprised at how much that realization hurt. He didn’t love her, but he did like her. She represented a better life. She proved he was not as despicable as the rest of his family.

Snape wasn’t that. Snape personified everything he despised – the pureblood arrogance, the submission to a maniacal and murderous wizard, the yielding to base, vicious desires.

But he realized as he stared up into the dusky sky and the first smatterings of stars that Snape, perhaps, proved what Sirius had always hoped and aimed for. That despite being used to the darkness, one could still find their way to the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, I do like to play this title and theme heavily, but I feel like it fits this story well (especially with Sirius's melodramatic monologuing). 
> 
> The next chapter is a personal favorite of mine, but it's a lot. A lot. 
> 
> I also started on a sequel for this story - I've made the mistake of trying to write four stories at once, so progress is haphazard but I like how it's coming so far.


	12. So Long Forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Child abuse, sexual abuse of a minor, and mention of domestic violence.

Marlene didn’t try to talk to him about it again. She recognized Sirius’s refusal to speak about Snape, and even though he could tell she was angry and confused about his response, she chose to avoid fighting over it. Instead, they celebrated Christmas with Lily, James, their tiny baby Harry, Remus, Emmeline, and Peter. Even with Snape haunting his thoughts, it was one of the happiest days of his life. It only made Sirius hate himself more for not being able to love her.

However, the path to a better life was not his to take. While Marlene represented that single bright light at the end of a long journey, his feet still tracked forward through the darkening night, leading him to broken constellations shattered in defiant black eyes.

Finding Snape proved much harder than he had anticipated. Sirius figured he shouldn’t owl him in case someone intercepted it, so he resorted to searching through the streets of Diagon Alley or Knockturn in the hopes of stumbling across him. Even though Sirius scanned every public setting for the man’s greasy head, Snape never appeared.

The day he had planned to ask Marlene to marry him came and passed, the engagement ring forgotten among his frustration to find Snape. James noticed and asked, but Sirius shrugged him off. Marlene was the least of his worries now.

It had taken a stroke of quick genius for Sirius to get Lily to reveal Snape’s childhood address. He had berated Snape in front of her, speculating about his spoiled upbringing and how he had probably resented James over the fact that James’s manor had five more bathrooms than his or some other nonsense. As he expected, James played along with it, and Lily bristled. Her eyes narrowed with hatred, Marlene looked tense, and Remus glanced between all of them clearly worried. He didn’t interrupt, and finally, Lily spoke out, voice a low hiss and rankling with anger.

“He’s wasn’t some spoiled brat,” she said, and James froze and blinked in the face of her ire. Sirius internally winced as he thought of the fight waiting to happen when the married couple returned home. James quieted, but Sirius persisted.

“Yeah, sure,” he sneered.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Lily seethed. Sirius laughed harshly.

“That’s why I know, Lily. I recognize it. Huh, what, did he never invite you to his manor? Ashamed or something?”

“Sirius,” James warned, but Sirius ignored him. He kept his eyes locked on Lily’s, fighting against the urge to wilt underneath her anger.

“He _didn’t_.”

“Then what? Pray tell, what his address? 123 Greasy Lane? 42-.”

“No, you ass,” Lily raged. Remus tried to intercede, but Sirius cut him off.

“Then what?” he asked, goading her on. “Or you don’t want to admit he lived in some manor-?”

“He lived at 14 Spinner’s End in Cokesworth. Near me, alright? It wasn’t some mansion, you entitled asshole,” she hissed furiously. Her rage was a terrifying thing, and Sirius felt relieved he didn’t have to push her any farther. He had achieved his goal, and now he would need to let Lily cool off before he tried speaking with her again. He felt slightly guilty about leaving James with a furious Lily, but he hoped James would understand. Or maybe not. It was Snape after all. 

Fortunately, the heated argument provided the perfect reason to leave. Sliding out from the end of the table, he shot Lily one more heated look for good measure, muttered nonsense under his breath and stormed out. He knew they would talk about him, and Marlene would convey her unease over his temper, but that fact felt like it belonged to another world. In his world, the only thing that mattered was Severus Snape.

The harsh January cold cut through the seams of his coat, and he shivered, teeth clattering together. He hated winter, hated the cold and the eternal grayness that seeped the life out of everything. However, it didn’t dispel his sense of victory. He had Snape’s address, and even if the man wasn’t there, his parents would be. They would have some information on Snape’s whereabouts, and if Sirius was lucky, he may even get them to call their son home.

It felt like a good plan, as far as Sirius could tell. Besides the fact that Snape’s dad was a Muggle, he knew next to nothing about Snape’s parents. He almost felt excited to meet them and finally understand where Snape had come from. It seemed strange to think of Snape belonging to anyone. He thought of a small dark-haired child clinging onto the hem of a woman’s skirt and wondered what must have gone so terribly wrong to turn an arguably innocent child into the bitter, disagreeable boy he had met on the Hogwarts Express.

He felt a strange mingle of anticipation and excitement as he considered the name – Spinner’s End. He frankly had no idea where the address would take him or what Snape’s childhood home would indicate about his upbringing, but it felt like he was slotting in another puzzle piece into the mystery of Snape’s past.

He closed his eyes and thought through the rest of his plan. He would apparate to Spinner’s End and greet Snape’s parents under the pretense of…what?

An investigator? A friend? A journalist? Someone impersonal? Or someone worried?

He thought it over and just decided to go with whatever he thought of when he finally met Snape’s parents. He would adjust his performance given their temperament and approach to their son. Hell, they might even be the type to accept him as Snape’s boyfriend and happily reveal whatever he wanted to know in reminiscent pride.

With a loose plan in mind, Sirius thought once more of the address – Spinner’s End – and apparated away, magic reaching out for a dark corner and ally in which he could appear unseen.

He landed hard on dirty snow, knees practically buckling at the force of it. He regained his balance and glanced around. He had landed in a dark trash-filled ally. The dumpster beside him reeked, and he quickly walked out into the street, eyes scanning Spinner’s End.

Lily had been right. Snape had not lived in a manor. In fact, it looked like had lived as far from a manor as one could get. Sirius had the uncomfortable realization that Snape had been poor. Very poor.

Black shabby houses lined a narrow street. Trash littered the road, and brown, mucky snow layered the street. Rotting stairs led to many of the townhouses, the houses practically decrepit with the lack of care and overwhelming press of poverty.

14 Spinner’s End proved no exception. The windows were shuttered, the roof had started to cave downwards, and the wood seemed to be rotting, a foul smell meeting Sirius’s nose. He stared at the house in foreboding and pushed back against his fear.

He had never imagined Snape as poor. Sure, he showed up with used, second-hand robes and books, and nothing ever seemed to fit him right – shoes initially too big and then robes too small. He had never arrived at Hogwarts with a shiny new broom or returned from Hogsmeade loaded with candy. He must have dimly recognized that Snape wasn’t well off, but he had assumed a family fortune squandered. A decrepit mansion, but a mansion nonetheless. A pureblood family facing financial stress, but nothing more.

Not this. Not this sense of deep-seated, hopeless poverty.

It made him feel guilty and worse, it made him frightened of what he would find behind that black, ramshackle door.

He felt a strong urge to flee but fought against it. He was not a coward.

He grit his teeth and approached the door, nose curling at the rotten smell. He took a moment to smooth out his face, plastered on a charming grin, and with a deep breath, knocked. He waited apprehensively as he heard someone approach the door and unlock it. The person opened it and he stared at – at what had to be Snape’s mom.

She had thin, tired features, her body waifish and bony. She wore ragged, worn clothes, and her hair fell lankly to her middle back. She looked tired and beaten as if she had lived a very long, hard life. Her black eyes, Snape’s eyes, narrowed at him with distrust and her thin mouth – Snape’s mouth - pressed together and pulled into a frown.

“Who are you?” she muttered, voice harsh and wary. She gripped hard against the door, knuckles turning white. Her gaze never left his face. He spoke the first thing that came to mind.

“Hi, I’m James McKinnon,” he said, randomly pulling out the name and keeping the grin on his face. He reached out his hand to shake hers, and she grabbed it after a moment of regarding it as if it would sting her. Her hand was cold against his, the grip weak. She waited for him to continue, frown becoming more pronounced. “Mrs. Snape?” he asked and she nodded curtly. “I’m with the, with Mr. Roberts,” he said, making up another name. “He’s thinking of offering your son a potions apprenticeship and sent me to ask you a few questions about him,” he lied smoothly and with as much charm as possible.

Mrs. Snape’s eyes narrowed further. She regarded him a moment longer, and Sirius made sure not to flinch or look away. “What sort of questions?” she asked, voice low. 

“Oh, nothing much,” Sirius continued, falling into the role of James McKinnon. “It shouldn’t take too long. Is your husband home?”

Mrs. Snape took a long moment to respond. “No,” she whispered. “Do you need to speak with him?” Sirius nodded, and something flickered over the woman’s gaze. “Alright,” she muttered. “He’ll be back from work soon. Just don’t…don’t mention the potions part of it to him. And don’t use any magic,” she ordered, voice thin and tightly controlled. Sirius nodded again.

The wariness never left her eyes, but she turned around, and he followed him into her house. She walked quietly and carefully, movements twitchy as if she expected an attack at any moment. He followed with a growing sense of unease.

They walked through a narrow, dark hallway and passed a dilapidated looking living room with a thread worn couch and a blank TV. Dust lingered in the corners, the furniture looked ancient, and the walls felt haunted with countless difficulties. Sirius swallowed hard and tried not to let his unease show.

They ended in a small kitchen, the room shadowy as the only window had been shuttered. Mrs. Snape glanced at him tiredly, and Sirius stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling privy to something painfully personal.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked emptily, and Sirius tried to smile as if unperturbed and asked for a glass of water. She grabbed a glass from the counter, turned on the rusty tap, and filled it. She handed it to Sirius who took a small sip. She looked at him with weary resignation. “What do you want to know?”

Sirius struggled to think of where to start and how to ask. He tried to slide into the role of a recruitment agent – what would a potions master want to know about his new apprentice?

“We, um, would you want to sit?” He asked, and the woman frowned and shook her head. “Well, then,” he continued, “How long has Severus expressed an interest in Potions?”

She thought for a moment, face remaining blank. “I would make them when he was a child, and he would watch. He would help me prepare the ingredients.”

Sirius nodded. “Ah, alright,” he said easily, “Did he-.”

Something flashed in Mrs. Snape's eyes, and her frown deepened. “What did you say your name was again?”

“James McKinnon,” Sirius lied easily, and Mrs. Snape stared at him through narrowed eyes.

“Do you have any proof of that?” She asked, voice lowering. Sirius felt a surge of panic and made a show for looking for an ID until he finally admitted he must have left it at the office. Mrs. Snape stared at him with blank eyes.

“My husband will be home soon. You can ask your questions then,” she stated flatly, and Sirius tried not to look guilty as he nodded again.

“Okay,” he agreed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and trying very hard not to blink under her piercing black eyes. “I am sorry if I’m intruding, but Mr. Roberts is insistent-.”

He fell off as Mrs. Snape turned around and busied with some dishes in the sink. Sirius watched her for a moment and ignored the tenseness of the situation. He didn’t leave, though, and finally, Mrs. Snape spoke again.

“You can look in his room if you want. He left behind some textbooks. He used to take his notes in them. First door on the left,” she muttered, and Sirius nodded, thanked her, and left as quickly as he could.

He climbed the stairs quickly, grimacing at the spider webs on the handrail. He found he could breathe again as standing in the kitchen clearly unwanted had felt suffocating. Of everything he had expected, this hadn’t been it. He couldn’t shake the feeling of a dawning horror and deep unease.

He reached the door and stepped inside. His gaze swept over the room Snape had called his own, and he felt his insides constrict at the decrepit nature of it. Clearly, no one had taken care of it in the past few years, so dust lay heavy over the room, the air stale.

The room contained only three pieces of furniture. A small, narrow cot with a thin, useless mattress and a shabby blanket that would have done nothing to prevent the cold that seeped through the wooden boards. A rickety desk with a few dusty books. A lumbering dresser of beaten oak.

There were no signs of personality, no touches of comfort. The room could have been a prison cell for all Sirius knew. Sirius felt a jolt of horror at it and knew that like him, Hogwarts would have surely felt like a true home. Not this barren room.

Sirius wandered numbly over to the bed and pressed his hand against the mattress. He was right; it would have provided no comfort. He examined the books on the desk, and as Mrs. Snape had said, there were old textbooks. He flipped through one, noting the spidery handwriting in the margins.

He walked over the dresser and with unexpected dread, he opened the door. A few old shirts and pants hung from hangers. The clothes looked worn with age, sporting a few holes, and they were large – far too large for any child or even teenager to wear. They had to have been his fathers, and they must have dwarfed him, a small body lost in too much fabric. He wondered if other kids had teased him over it. He knew the answer.

He sucked in his cheeks and bit on the soft flesh. He felt a worsening sense of horror over the entire situation, a deep, swooping lurch of guilt and pity and dreadfulness. He scanned his eyes over the practically empty dresser, and his gaze caught on what looked like etchings in the bottom corner. He sunk to his knees and peered at the back of the dresser, puzzled by the marks.

It felt like he someone had dropped a bucket of ice water of his head as he made out the three four-letters words etched into the wood. SAFE read one. LOVE read the other. And finally, LILY.

He sat staring at the words, numb with shock. He could feel the horror start to hit him like a wave - a slow dawning realization and then an agonizing crest. He thought distantly over why a child-Snape would have felt the need to hide in the back of his dresser and scrape those three words into the hard wood. Safe, Love, Lily.

He stumbled backward, suddenly driven by a desire to look away, to close his eyes against the horror. He stood in the middle of the dusty room and breathed heavily. He swallowed against the sense of bile resting in his throat.

He pressed his hands against his eyes and tried to calm his thoughts. He would have time to process later. Now, though, he had to keep himself moving. He thought for a long moment and jolted it out of when a thought struck him.

Sirius had had a small hidden place in his room. A stone in the fireplace that had been loose enough to lodge out. A small space behind it where Sirius stored mementos he didn’t want his parents to find. He imagined Snape would have wanted the same.

He pulled out his wand and whispered a spell to reveal hidden objects. A shine around one of the wooden planks that made up of the floor softly lit the room, and Sirius kneeled down to examine it. He scraped his fingers along its side and dug underneath, feeling a sense of victory as the board shifted upwards. He pulled it out and set it aside, peering into the small space between the two floors.

He was right – Snape had hidden small mementos. He reached in and started to pull them out.

First, a defeated teddy beat. Its hair had matted with something dark, and an arm and a leg had been cleanly ripped off. Most of its stuffing had escaped. It stared at Sirius with beady black eyes. He set it aside, uncomfortable.

A small cookie tin. Sirius took off its lid and stared at the various knickknacks it held. A chewing gum wrapper. A seashell. A flowery hair clip. A plastic ring. A Big Ben keychain. A pencil with hearts.

Lily, he thought. An emotion welled up in him, one he couldn’t place, and felt a lump lodge uncomfortably in his throat. He swallowed hard and set the tin aside.

He pulled out a battered library book next. The title read _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ and it looked like it had been well-loved. Sirius flipped through the pages; he had never heard of the novel but would have to read it now. He smiled grimly at the mention of the Lion.

He set aside the book and reached for the final item – a roll of papers. He slowly unrolled at them, careful not to crumple the fragile paper. They were clearly old, the pages spotted with time.

When he finally unrolled them, he stared numbly as the world fell away in a blanket of horrific realization.

The paper on the top showed a crude child’s drawing. It was done in crayon, but the once bright colors had dulled. The scene was simple. A line of stick figures all holding hands, small smiles on each of their faces. A stick figure in the middle with black hair – he must have been Snape. On the top, the word HOGWARTS had been written out in an awkward child’s hand – the letters crooked and misconstrued.

Snape must have been very young, and the sense of innocence and hope in the child’s drawing caused a lash of agony to cut through Sirius. He felt tears on his cheek, distressed that the child’s drawing couldn’t have been farther from the truth. He was responsible, he thought. James and he had ostracized the boy, intent on hating him and forcing the other students to do so too. He had had only Lily, and then he had lost her too.

Unable to bear the sight of it anymore, he shuffled it to the back of the stack. The next one was only slightly easier – a small, stick figure Snape with a cauldron surrounded by about ten other various stick figures. The other students all had smiles on their faces, some with crude hands that looked to be in the process of clapping.

The next few pictures all followed that theme – a tiny stick figure Snape riding a broom or waving his wand or in the hallways of Hogwarts and surrounded by other stick-figures who were happy to be there with him. The drawings were crude, the lines clumsy, but the sheer innocence of it, the hopeful child’s hand broke his heart in a way he didn’t know was possible. It was agonizing to bear witness to Snape’s childhood hopes and recognize that he had played a direct role in destroying them.

With trembling hands, he moved to the next sheet and felt his blood run cold. He blinked, unable to process, hands now shaking, his heartbeat loud in his ears. The drawing was nightmarish, a perverted expression of innocence, and he suddenly felt unable to continue, needing desperately escape this hellish depiction of childhood.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, could hardly even blink against now painfully dry eyes.

It was also done crudely in crayon, but little Snape had only used black. Sirius’s eyes found the now-familiar stick-figure Snape, but now he lay horizontal on a line comprising a bed. Small, black dashes indicated a long line of tears that fell off the page, and a backward C formed his frown.

On the other side of the paper stood two other stick-figures. They were much larger than the others, and Sirius reasoned they were adults. They were both men, hair short. Little Snape had drawn downward dashes over their eyes to show their anger and two horizontal lines as hard mouths. However, that wasn’t what had frozen Sirius to his bone. No, it was the two short lines little Snape had drawn between both of the men’s stick-figure legs.

He fought against nausea and rubbed violently at his face. It felt like someone had cracked his ribs open, hands tearing against his flesh to reveal his beating heart. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear to stand witness to the drawing anymore, couldn’t contemplate who the little crying stick-figure was…

His hands trembled as he frantically shifted the pages. The next one was much the same, but this time one of the men lay atop little Snape while the other one stood beside him with a black smile. The tears still streamed off the page, the frown on little Snape’s face more pronounced. Sirius hurried to the next one, biting down at the abject dread of seeing such a horrific act displayed by a child’s simple drawing.

The next one gave Sirius a bitter sense of relief. Little Snape now stood, arm outstretched as he clutched onto a thin line that had to be a wand. He was still crying, black dashes running down the page, but he had lost his frown. Little Snape had deemed a smile more appropriate. For the other two stick-figures, red crayon now spurted cartoonishly from one’s chest. The other, from his neck, but little Snape must have lost control because the red skittered frantically over the page.

Staring at the image, his fingers curled around the paper, Sirius had a lurching moment of clarity on the basis of Snape’s fascination with the Dark Arts.

He struggled to breathe, felt himself growing scarily numb, but he couldn’t stop. His hands continued to shuffle the pages, and he stared at them with disembodied dread. The next few drawings all showed little Snape holding a wand as blood spurted and body parts fell off of larger, adult stick-figures. The lines all looked shaky as if little Snape had drawn them in a clenched fist and trembling hand.

Then, little Snape was back at Hogwarts. He wore green now, sketched out snakes on the wall, and placed himself in various scenes – in front of a cauldron, wearing a medal, flying on a broomstick. Now, however, one hand always clutched a wand. The other ended in empty space, the other students seeming to no longer want to hold little Snape’s hand. They were still there, of course, their hands interlocked and they continued to smile at him, but, Sirius noted with a wave of agony, little Snape no longer joined them.

It was Hogwarts, more Hogwarts – none of the children touched him anymore, but they still seemed to like him even though he no longer smiled - and then frightening frantic scribbles of red and black that filled entire pages. And then, and then –

Lily.

Sirius instantly recognized her distinctive red hair and green eyes. A smile filled her circle face, and she wore a pretty blue sundress. Little Snape had also drawn yellow lines shining from her as if she was the sun, and for him, she probably was.

For several pages, it was just her. Her red hair and green eyes standing amongst a field of flowers. Swinging in a playground. At Hogwarts, holding all the student’s hands. He had seemed to have drawn her lovingly, lines careful and colors exact. It contrasted greatly from the many other drawings, and it lessened some of the pain in Sirius’s chest. Little Snape had found something beautiful in her, something that had given him light.

The last drawing was of a little Lily and a little Snape standing beside each other among trees. Little Lily smiled brightly and continued to shine with short yellow lines. Little Snape still didn’t smile, but the line had wavered slightly as if he had considered curving it upwards. Sirius stared at where both the ends of their thin black arms met, and the world faded away behind him as icy water sloshed in his chest.

He lost track of time as he stared at the final drawing, whole body going numb as a sickening array of emotions clawed into him. He couldn’t, he couldn’t-

The sound of someone climbing the stairs jolted him into action. He muttered a quick spell to transfigure the teddy bear, tin, book, and drawings into smaller figurines, and he shoved them into his coat pocket. He slid the plank back into place, whispered a spell to close the dresser door. He stood and spun around just in time for the person to open the door.

He stared at a man he instantly recognized as Snape’s father. They shared the same hook beak of a nose, but his eyes were muddy brown, eyebrows thick. Sirius noted with some relief that Snape had taken after his mother.

“Who are you?” the man grunted, staring with hateful distrust at Sirius. He was a big man with broad shoulders and wide hands. His gut hung over his trousers, but he looked strong and sturdy as if he performed hard manual labor often.

“I-,” Sirius said startling. “I’m, um, James McKinnon. My employee wants to offer your son a position, but we wanted to do a background check. I’m only here to ask a few questions about him.” He spoke with more strength than he thought he had, and with a lurch, threw himself into the role of James McKinnon. He couldn’t be Sirius Black right now. He couldn’t face what he discovered. And, he recognized faintly, if he was, he would land himself in Azkaban over what he would to Snape’s father.

Mr. Snape stared at him with cold, beady eyes and grunted again. “Downstairs,” he muttered and turned to walk back downstairs. Sirius watched him go and then forced himself into action again. He followed him downstairs, closing the door and the horror behind him.

He refocused on James McKinnon. He would leave quickly, but first, curiosity demanded he heard what Snape’s parents had to say. He couldn’t fathom anything worse than he had already found.

Mrs. Snape was still in the kitchen, and she readily handed Mr. Snape a beer. He chugged it, throwing it aside and fixed his gaze on Sirius.

“You’ve been bothering my wife?” he asked accusingly, eyes narrowing. Mrs. Snape looked even paler, eyes darting downwards.

“I hope not, sir,” Sirius replied quickly. “I’ll be brief,” he pressed onwards, unwilling to delay his exit any longer. “We simply wanted to ask if you have any thoughts on whether we should offer your son this position.”

“Eileen?” Mr. Snape asked darkly, and Mrs. Snape flinched. Sirius felt another shock of dread as he realized the violence in this house had not been reserved solely for their child. Snape’s father, the Muggle, was a monster, the likes Sirius had never seen before, even amongst his hellish family.

“He’s a troubled boy,” Mrs. Snape said quietly, eyes fixing on a point on the floor. “Angry and violent. Will cause you nothing but misery,” she said bitterly and scowled. James McKinnon nodded in understanding.

Mr. Snape snorted. His muddy eyes met Sirius’s, and he scowled. “My son,” he began gruffly, “is a very troubled boy. Something sick and rotten in him, if you know what I mean. Born that way, we expect.” He paused, considering Sirius, and Sirius gave a small nod to continue, trying to ignore the freezing dread. “Did my best to beat it out of him,” he said roughly, “Took the belt to him plenty of times but couldn’t get it out of him. My wife came from a bad family, we expect it got passed down through her.” He narrowed his eyes, and Mrs. Snape shifted beside him. He remained silent for a long moment, and Sirius channeled everything into not letting his disgust and hatred manifest on his face. “Anyway, it’d be in your best interest to get rid of him as soon as you can. Nothing worthwhile in that piece of shit son.”

“Oh, alright,” Sirius said quickly, ignoring the sense of nausea and blinding rage that built behind his eyes. He thought one more moment in this house would kill him or, better, drive him to kill. Snape’s possessions burned in his pockets. “Well, I believe that’s all,” he finished, voice cold. “We’ll be sure to consider what you had to say.”

Mr. Snape took a step towards him. “Who did you say you were?” he asked. Sirius just offered a tight smile and turned and left as quickly he could. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Snape called out to him, and he fled the gaping silence, biting down against bile.

He practically ran down the street, only pausing to heave up his lunch on the dirty sidewalk. He kept himself moving, feet pounding hard against dirty snow. He took turns randomly until the houses no longer looked quite as decrepit; he had lost track of time. People regarded him warily, but he paid them no heed. He couldn’t think of anything besides the roaring in head and the figurines burning holes against his skin.

His stomach lurched with dread at the realizations, the horror pungent and biting. His eyes burned with blinding rage, and it was a rage directed at everyone and anything. His hands itched to hurt someone, like they had done at night in the bar when he had first seen Snape, and he craved a physical expression for the horror and anger that tore apart his soul.

He would have thought that fighting in a war would have prepared him for this. He had seen pain, understood loss, witnessed atrocities, but all of it felt laughable in the face of this great, terrifying horror over what had been done to a tiny child in that cold, rotten house. And now to think of that abused child glaring at him on the Hogwarts Express, speaking proudly of the Slytherin House, or that friendless boy who wandered the halls of Hogwarts constantly on guard for an attack, or that man who he had fought and taken to bed and fallen in love with.

He found himself in a park and collapsed on a bench, leaning forward to hide his face in his hands as he gasped for air. It was rage and guilt and horror and pity and remorse, it was his cruelty laid bare, it was his monstrous soul that had preyed on Snape’s strangeness, it was his ground-shaking understanding of the man, and it was his awe that, despite it all, Snape still looked at him with defiant eyes that spoke of a strength that his father nor James and Sirius nor Voldemort had been able to take from him.

He shook against the force of it, eyes burning and hands frighteningly numb. He thought of Snape’s father boasting about beating his son, and he thought of Snape sparing Regulus from Voldemort’s wrath. He thought of Snape’s buried resentment at Voldemort taking him to bed, and he thought of that tiny stick figure with tears falling off the edge of the paper as two men loomed over him.

He wanted to cry, to scream, to rage against the world, but his body remained frozen, the antithesis to the hurricane inside his head. The drawings seared onto the darkness of his eyelids, and he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear to think of what he had done…

The pain demanded an outlet, either someone he could hurt or blame or to share in their horror.

He thought of storming back to Spinner’s End and summoning every curse in his repertoire to destroy Snape’s father. He would finally do what little Snape had always wanted. The man would deserve it, there was no question of that matter.

But, Sirius thought through the screaming cacophony in his head, Snape hadn’t. He was Death Eater; he should have no qualms to curse the man who abused him. Indeed, Voldemort would probably encourage it – the wizard triumphing over his Muggle father. But Snape…Snape hadn’t.

He had left them, clearly, for there was no lost love in that house. Snape had probably scarcely, if not ever, returned to that dilapidated house. But Snape hadn’t sought his revenge. He hadn’t blown that house to pieces. He hadn’t left a bloody corpse on the kitchen floor.

Sirius, for the life of him, could not figure out why.

And why, if Snape hadn’t sought out vicious revenge over his Muggle abuser, why he would have leapt at the chance to take the Mark and join the people who sought to do exactly that?

Unless of course, like Sirius taking refuge in James’s house, it was his one chance to get away. That, like Sirius, he couldn’t stand the thought of stepping foot in his house, and that, like Sirius, Dumbledore had refused his request to spend his summer at Hogwarts. But, unlike Sirius, there was no James Potter who happily welcomed him into his family.

There was, as Snape had said when Sirius washed the blood from his skin, no one else. No one else except the Dark Lord and the power he offered, and Snape…

Snape said he couldn’t have gone back. And the only step forward was into Voldemort’s arms.

Sirius wondered distantly how they all could have failed him so miserably. He knew with a gut-wrenching certainty that Snape would have taken anything else. It was what he had told Regulus after all – to reject his parents and friends' wishes and become a Healer. To avoid the grasp of the Dark Lord because Regulus had another way, a better way, a way that Snape didn’t.

In the quiet moments between his shuddering, horrified gasps, Sirius realized he finally understood Snape. There were still, of course, mysteries surrounding the man. Snape defied every box Sirius could place him in. But, in a very fundamental sense, he understood Snape.

Because in a way, they were the same. Both stuck in loveless, abusive families, both burdened with hatred over their identity, both viewing Hogwarts as a true home and while their paths had diverged there, it could have easily been inverted. Sirius, surrounded by purebloods and scorned by the rest of the school, would have craved revenge, demanded some outlet for his rage, and Voldemort would have been there.

And Snape, surrounded by a group of loving and supportive friends, would have chosen as Sirius had and disparaged Voldemort’s claims of power and glory. Even if he, like Sirius, carried a dark, smoldering temper, he still would have chosen his friends and stepped into the Light.

Sirius, through the grips of guilt, felt inseparably bonded with Severus Snape for, despite all their superficial differences – his beauty at Snape’s ugliness, his charm at Snape’s bitterness – he recognized the soul inside of the man, for, in a way, it was his own.

A hysterical laugh bubbled through his lips if the universe had thought it to be some funny joke to bring the two men together after years of mutual dislike and resentment to prove this fact to Sirius.

The laugh morphed into a broken-sounding dry sob, and he clutched as his face and wished for an end to the guilt and horror. The figurines burned in his pocket, carving a bloody, smoldering wound on the inside of his chest. He imagined a tiny dark-haired child lying on that hard, wooden floor and drawing with a black crayon clenched between his fingers. He saw that same malnourished dark-haired child curled up in the corner of his dresser, fingers frantically running over the three words he had carved in the hope they could protect him from the horror of the world.

Safe, Love, Lily, Sirius thought with a great, heaving sob. The words spun in his head, burning through his gray matter, and he choked on them and knew with a deep-seated clarity, he had to tell someone.

He couldn’t bear this burden alone; he was not nearly strong enough for that. He had to share this horror, seek comfort in companionship and mutual sympathy. If not, he thought he would break under the weight of it, sanity shattered by the consuming guilt and remorse.

Even if Snape resented him for this betrayal of privacy and trust, he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand to see the drawings burned onto his irises and think that no one else knew and try to pretend that everything was alright and okay.

He would only need one, he thought. One companion to face this horror. He had no desire to spread it carelessly.

He couldn’t tell Marlene; she wouldn’t understand. James – no, he still thought of Snape as Sirius used to think of him, and his sympathy would feel forced and dulled. Remus, Remus could understand, but Sirius shuddered at burdening him with the guilt of what he had never found the courage to stop. Peter – no, his world view was too shuttered. Dumbledore – Dumbledore would understand also and know what to say, but Sirius balked at telling him. It felt wrong to divulge Snape’s trauma and speak of their relationship to someone like Dumbledore.

He wished he could have told Regulus. Regulus saw Snape more clearly than most and would have understood. Grief mingled with the guilt, and he dimly wondered how anyone could feel so many awful emotions at once. It was unbearable.

Lily – Lily would understand. Lily would sympathize. Lily would-.

It had to be Lily. There was no one else. She was the stick-figure little Snape had drawn with such love and care, the shining girl with her bright green eyes and pretty blue sundress.

He stood up quickly, wiped his face, and before he could question himself and what he was doing, he apparated away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am distinctly proud of this chapter - it's visceral and brutal and Sirius's monologue destructive. Writing it was enough to gut me, and I read it about fifty more times after that. Maybe I'm conceited here (sorry), but I wrote almost all of it in a night and read it the next day amazed. 
> 
> It's a very difficult chapter, and I'm sure the emotional impact won't be lost. It's not supposed to be an easy one, nor is this story something bright and light-filled. Yet, I hope in some way, this story has become something you have valued - if so, I can't think of any greater achievement on my part. 
> 
> On a better note, I've started another story putting these two in Hollywood - I imagine a mix between angst and fluff and when published, will hopefully be a nice break from the heaviness of that story. 
> 
> Of course, as always, thank you.


	13. Now Would You Pray

James opened the door and stared at Sirius with wide, startled eyes. He looked tired and tense; Sirius figured Lily had been chewing him out over their conversation in the pub. It was amazing, he thought, to think that had happened only a few hours ago.

“Padfoot,” James exhaled and glanced backward into their cottage. He turned back to Sirius with fear in his eyes. “Lily’s pretty angry so you probably shouldn’t, you know,” he muttered quietly as Sirius stared passively at him.

“Who is it?” Lily shouted from the living room. She sounded furious, and James stared at Sirius with growing panic.

“Pads, you really should,” he warned, but Sirius shook his head and pushed past him. He paused when he saw Lily who looked stunning in her fury. Her green eyes glinted dangerously, lips pressed tightly together. When she saw Sirius, she froze, eyes narrowing.

“What the hell do you want?” she hissed, and it took Sirius a long moment to find his ability to speak. Staring at Lily, he saw Snape’s delicate drawing with the yellow lines he had drawn around her as if she had practically shined like the sun.

“Just…,” Sirius began, swallowing hard. He heard James move behind him, probably thinking of a way to intercede and spare Sirius from his wife’s wrath. “Can we talk?” he finally managed.

Lily blinked in surprise. She looked closely at him, regarding him suspiciously. “About what?”

Sirius inhaled heavily and felt like he was thinking and moving through thick, coagulated mud. He spoke slowly, voice rough. “I…,” he swallowed. “Can we talk…um, privately?” He sensed James tense behind him, and Lily’s gaze flashed towards him.

“Yeah, sure,” James said uneasily, shifting awkwardly behind him. Sirius heard James climb the stairs and shut a door. He muttered a quick spell to silence their conversations with the fear that James could accidentally overhear anything Sirius would prefer to keep solely between Lily and himself. Lily noticed and tensed.

“What is it?” she asked, forcing calmness. Sirius didn’t respond for a long moment and moved over to the couch and sat heavily. He leaned forward and gripped his hands tightly together. A few moments later, Lily settled down beside him.

“Sirius…?” she asked, and her anger seemed to wane as she noticed his distress. Sirius drew in a shuddering breath and shut his eyes. Lily still seemed on edge, but her voice grew gentler and more comforting.

“Lily,” he forced out, before clamping his mouth together. A horrible sense of a building sob lodged in his throat, and he tried to settle himself and find clarity past the dread.

“Sirius?” she asked again, with a note of concern. “What is it?”

“Um,” Sirius fumbled, the moment of admittance upon him. He knew once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He pushed through the torrent of emotion and the seething mass of nerves and managed to speak. “Snape,” he exhaled, and Lily froze beside him.

“What about him?” she asked carefully. Sirius pressed his hands to his face, wheeling at the heady feeling of speaking his name.

“He…,” Sirius stumbled out. He felt painfully vulnerable under her gaze as wondered how she would react to the secrets he carried in his soul. “He’s, um…I needed, um, to talk to someone about him,” he stuttered. “I thought…thought you would understand.”

Lily inhaled sharply beside him; Sirius still couldn’t bear to look at her. “Okay,” she murmured. “What is it, Sirius?”

It was the way she spoke, he thought. That gentle quietness that eased him open and made him want to unload the anguish in soul and ease his pain. The words came out slowly at first, jumpy and hesitant, as he talked about running into Snape in a bar and wanting a fight, and how that fight had ended in a kiss that neither knew who initiated. And from there to his bed, he admitted, and the best sex of his life, and how there was nothing to it, really. Just hatred.

Lily frowned but remained silent and let him speak.

He spoke softly of Snape coming to him for help when he was injured and how Sirius had healed him, and how afterward, Snape spoke quietly of his brother and trying to stop him from joining the Death Eaters. Lily had gasped at that, and Sirius felt horrible for the worse was far to come.

He then described how he had fallen in love with the man, and Lily seemed stunned to silence. Sirius felt heady with the feeling of admittance and of speaking it into the world. It sent a thread of boldness through him as he described holding Snape and getting the man to speak openly and listening to him closely and how, how-

How Sirius had never wanted it to happen. Falling in love with Snape. The man was a Death Eater and still someone he should never want to love. And he tried to convince himself otherwise, but that it didn’t work.

But then he had realized perhaps he had been wrong, that Snape was someone worthy of love, someone who had risked his life to protect an orphanage and carried an unflinching strength in his gaze that left Sirius speechless and dizzy and so impossibly in love.

He dimly recognized that Lily had shifted himself closer to him so that their legs now pressed together. He leaned into her warmth and the comfort it provided.

He then spoke of Regulus, the grief strangling him. Lily began to tenderly stroke his hair, like he had done with Snape so many times. It loosened something inside him and made it slightly easier to breathe. He found the strength to continue on and told Lily of Snape asking for his help, of his last conversation with his brother, of losing Reggie and pushing Snape away in the process.

Lily still didn’t comment, and Sirius was grateful. Speaking of this felt like bleeding puss out a wound: terrible and painful and exposing, but with a deep sense that he would finally start to heal.

She continued to stroke his hair, and he leaned farther into her, preparing for what was to come.

Finally, he spoke of Marlene. Lily tensed at her name but remained quiet, and Sirius spoke regretfully about trying to love Marlene, about _wanting_ to love Marlene, about how he still couldn’t, still couldn’t –

Lily shushed him as he started to grow frantic, words coming too quickly as he felt guilt plow into his chest. He took a few minutes to steady himself and to think of how to say the next part.

He figured it would be alright to reveal that Snape was the Order’s spy. Among everything else, he figured it would be the least surprising thing she heard, and he knew he could trust her.

He talked about running into Snape after an Order’s meeting and tried to heavily imply why Snape had been talking with Dumbledore. Lily picked it up quickly and gasped, fingers pausing in his hair.

“Severus?” she repeated quietly, and Sirius nodded.

“You can’t-I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” he stressed, and Lily nodded.

“Of course, of course, but oh-,” her voice wavered at the end. “Oh, Severus,” she whispered, sounding pained. “Have you talked to him?”

Sirius sighed bitterly. “No,” he said roughly. “I’ve been trying to. Can’t find him anywhere.”

“Oh,” Lily said quietly. Sirius drew in a sharp breath and straightened himself up. He looked at Lily for the first time. She had started crying, tears rolling down her face and green eyes now red-rimmed. The anger had melted from her face, leaving only compassion and remorse and regret. He was surprised that he hadn’t started crying; he would have expected it of himself. However, the emotional pain had begun to dull as he spoke and found peace in Lily’s presence.

“That’s why-,” he started suddenly, and Lily’s gaze flashed back to him. Something in his voice appeared to disturb her, and she rubbed at her eyes.

“What? What is it?” she asked weakly, and Sirius hoped she knew already. That what he was about to say was something she had known and made peace with it. He knew in his gut that wouldn’t be the case; Snape wouldn’t have told her. Wouldn’t have wanted to risk Lily treating him like the other students who left him alone and eschewed his friendship.

“I went-,” he began slowly, closing his eyes and speaking into the darkness. “Since I couldn’t get in contact with him, I had to find another way. I thought…I thought his parents would know where he was.” He knew Lily had frozen beside him as her mind raced through the conversation at lunch.

“That’s why?” she said, voice muted by shock.

“Yeah,” Sirius replied, grimacing. “It worked, didn’t it?” he huffed out a bitter laugh, glancing over at her expression of realization. She looked at him with wide eyes, and Sirius could feel apprehension and dread radiating off her. “Did you ever-when you knew him?”

Lily shook her head. “I tried once, but his mother yelled at me to leave. And…I knew his father was abusive, but he didn’t talk about it. I would just see the bruises,” she frowned, gaze turning inward. “What did you-what did you see?” she asked with quiet dread.

Sirius met her gaze, and she let out a smothered sob at what she saw in his eyes and curled up into herself. Sirius felt terrible, guilt screaming through him over what he was about to do to her. However, when she glanced up him, her eyes spoke of strength and determination despite the tears. It would be worse if he didn’t tell her, he thought. Even though it horrified, she would want to know.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the figurines. He waved his wand and transfigured them back into their original form. Lily looked down at them, brow furrowing. She reached out hesitantly to grab the thread-worn teddy bear and held it carefully in her hands.

“I found them in his room,” he explained. “Hidden away.” Lily ran her hands over the defeated bear and glanced up at him.

“I think…I think this is blood,” she said, gesturing to the matted fur. Sirius closed his eyes at the weight of the simple statement but felt no surprise.

“His father,” he stated against the painful lump in his throat, “said he used to beat him. Took the belt to him. To beat out the magic in him.”

Lily cried out softly, teddy bear trembling in her grasp. She closed her eyes. “He loved magic,” she said. “He would tell me about it when we were kids. It always made him smile, thinking about…” she broke off, meeting Sirius’s gaze once again.

Sirius nodded in understanding, and she set the teddy bear aside and reached for the book. She gently traced its cover. “Do you know the story?” she asked, voice soft.

“No,” he admitted. “I’ll read it, though. Now.”

“Yeah,” Lily said, focusing on the book. “It’s a lovely story. He would have…have liked it. It’s about escaping through a wardrobe to another world. There’s an evil witch, unfortunately, but four children triumph against her. And the Lion, the Lion is supposed to be God.” She huffed out a laugh. “A bit like Dumbledore, when I think about it.”

Sirius chilled at her words, and she noticed, looking at him with concern. “What is it?” she asked.

Sirius bit against the inside of his cheek, teeth scraping the soft flesh. “In his room, there was only, well, there was a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. The wardrobe, it was…he had carved some words into it,” he continued, the dread sickening him. “He had…in the back of it, he had carved out the words, um,” the words came with difficulty and he wasn’t sure he would be able to continue. “Safe, Love, and your, your name,” he managed, and Lily let out another cry, face fracturing with sorrow.

“He…” she tried, unable to continue. The book trembled in her hands, and she stared down at it for a long moment. She drew in a shuddering breath and set it next to the matted teddy bear. She reached for the scroll of papers, but Sirius shook his head.

“That should be last,” he whispered, and Lily regarded him for a moment before picking up the cookie tin. She opened it and gasped.

“This is…” she tried again, picking up the hair clip and examining it.

“It’s you,” Sirius finished, and Lily looked sad as she shifted through the other items in the tin. “When did you,” he began, realizing he didn’t know, “When did you befriend him?”

Lily didn’t look away from the trinkets. “We were seven. He saw me doing magic. I saw him watching and thought he was insulting me when he called me a witch. But he wasn’t, and we would spend a lot of time together as he told me about all of it. I thought he was…amazing,” she confessed, and Sirius looked at her in understanding. After a long moment, she glanced towards the roll of papers.

“What’s that, Sirius?” she asked, clearly frightened. Surprisingly, he felt more composed about what the papers showed, the horror of it lessening slightly as he thought of how to prepare Lily for what awaited.

“It’s why I came,” he explained carefully. “I, I couldn’t bear knowing and not-I’m sorry, Lily, it’s not easy.”

“What is it?” she repeated, voice soft with fear

“I-,” Sirius continued, forcing the words. “Something terrible happened to him. When he was young. It’s in those pages, with a lot else. I-,” he broke off, unable to speak anymore

Lily stared at the papers, and then with a trembling hand, she reached out and grabbed them. She unfurled the roll and shut her eyes, tears streaming down her face. “He must have been…” she said after a beat of silence.

“Young,” Sirius finished, imagining once again that tiny, hopeful child. His heart ached with it.

She flipped through the next few pages, eyes shutting in pain until she could bear to continue. Sirius waited with dread as Lily slowly approached that one drawing, that one sick perversion of childhood innocence.

When she finally reached it, she pressed her hand to her mouth, shoulders jerking with sobs. Sirius rested his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands, shut his eyes, and waited quietly. He could see the drawing as if it laid in front of him, and he felt the now familiar mix of horror and guilt and dread.

“I-I didn’t know,” Lily finally managed, voice strangled. Sirius nodded and raised his head to meet her tear-stained eyes.

“I don’t think anyone did,” he said quietly. Lily shuddered.

“I, I mean…” Lily struggled, and Sirius frowned, gathering some of what she must feel. The horror and distress, of course, but also the sense that she should have seen and done something. That she, as his closet friend, had failed him.

“It’s not,” Sirius tried to comfort, well aware his words meant nothing, “It’s not your fault, Lily. You were a kid too, you couldn’t have known.”

“But-,” Lily protested, voice breaking with anguish. Sirius sighed and reached to grab her hand. 

“You couldn’t have known how bad it was. And I don’t think he wanted you to know either. You were-you’ll see,” he finished as Lily bit back another sob. Sirius didn’t speak again; he couldn’t rush this for Lily.

Finally, Lily shuffled to the next page and let out another low moan. She didn’t speak, and neither did Sirius, and she moved on to the next page. She breathed haggardly and let out a bitter snort.

“Guess it explains why he always…” she broke off, but Sirius understood what she meant. It was one thing to worship the Dark Arts to hurt others. It was another to do so to protect oneself.

She flipped through the next pages, her quiet sobs disrupting the silence of the room. Sirius glanced back down at them and noted with grim pride how little Snape cut off the man’s limbs.

When Lily reached the Hogwarts pictures again, Sirius could hardly imagine the gut-wrenching agony she must feel. To see little Snape become a solitary, defensive figure. To see little Snape start to become the unpleasant boy on the Hogwarts Express that had inspired such rage in James and Sirius.

All due to the fact that two men had deemed it fit to rape a tiny child.

She flipped quickly through the terrifying scribbles of black and red, and Sirius knew they spoke of horrors no child should ever have to face. They would, he thought, seem to correlate when Snape would have started showing accidental magic. And with his accidental magic must have come his father’s beatings. And with his father’s beatings came the familiarity with pain that Snape had spoken of softly in the shower as he explained why he tried to protect Regulus.

Sirius felt numb and exhausted, but at least, he had been right. Sharing the horror with Lily, even though it also tore her apart, lessened some of his agony. It was selfish and monstrous, but he couldn’t find the energy to care.

Lily broke into ugly sobs when she reached the portraits of her, and Sirius pulled her against his chest to provide some comfort. Her fingers curled over the final image of her shining beside the nearly smiling boy, and they didn’t speak for a long time.

Lily’s sobs eventually subsided, and with great effort, she straightened herself. She stared at Sirius, cheeks wet with tears, and Sirius numbly reached out to brush the wetness aside. Lily’s brilliant green eyes carried the weight of a brutal sorrow, and she hiccupped softly.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius finally managed to say, shattering the silence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to come to.”

“Thank you,” Lily responded weakly. “For…coming. It’s, I mean I don’t need to tell you how it feels. But I…I’m grateful you did. He was, he _is_ my best friend. And I need to…need to fix things. Between us.”

“Yeah,” Sirius muttered. “I understand. Same goes for me, you know?”

Lily nodded slowly, eyes fixed on Sirius. “I’ve…okay.” Her voice grew steady. “You’ve owled him? But he won’t respond?”

Sirius shook his head. “Thought it would be too much of a risk. In case someone else…no, I’ve been looking but can’t-.” Lily shut her eyes and nodded, thinking for a moment.

“Dumbledore should be able to reach him,” she stated. Pain still laced her voice, but she seemed to have set it aside her commitment to rekindle her relationship with Snape. Her determination provided some comfort to Sirius, and he latched onto his own need to talk to Snape and apologize.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, thinking over the option. “He can.”

“Okay,” Lily continued. “Okay, then we ask Dumbledore. Just so we don’t risk his position or anything. Next Order meeting is tomorrow, so after that?”

Sirius nodded, too tired to decipher the mix of emotions in his chest. He wanted to collapse and sleep this nightmare away. “Also,” he started, and Lily turned to him. “No one else can know, okay? I mean, I don’t-.”

“Of course, Sirius,” Lily agreed empathetically. “Not even James. And I’m sorry for getting so angry at you earlier. I’ve always-Severus has always been important to me. And I remember him more as…not as you and James see him, but as-,” she struggled, and Sirius finally interrupted, understanding her meaning.

“And I’m sorry too, Lily. For how we treated him. I…we were monsters to him. And we thought we were being funny, which honestly makes it worse. But it wasn’t funny. It never was. And I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that,” Sirius apologized, feeling raw and awkward. He had never ever been one to apologize, but now, after everything he had seen today, he could not afford that weakness.

Lily leaned forward to pull Sirius into a hug. The embrace was a touch of comfort Sirius had so desperately needed, and when they finally moved apart, Sirius found he could breathe a little easier.

“Hot chocolate?” Lily asked lightly, and Sirius thought of Lily as the benevolent angel sent to save his tortured soul. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has what we've all been waiting for. Indeed, I stretched that scene out into three chapters so we have a lot of reconciling coming up. 
> 
> Another note, I've published another story called a Sky Full of Stars - a Hollywood inspired fic with our favorite couple. I'm on some great writing kick right now, so I wonderfully have stories coming to me left and right and the drive to actually write them. I am hoping and anticipating that this lasts - even still, it does mean I have about five stories in progress, the ambition to finish each one, and the love and joy of sharing it with all you wonderful readers.


	14. Twist the Knife

Sirius had faced many terrors throughout his life. But, he thought, none quite as terrifying as an enraged Albus Dumbledore.

“Sirius Black,” Dumbledore said slowly, words pulsing with anger. “Did I not stress the importance of maintaining the secrecy of Mr. Snape’s position? Did I not make myself clear?”

Sirius blanched at his disappointment. “Yes, but-.” The look in Dumbledore’s eyes cut him off, and he stared at his feet as he tried not to let Dumbledore’s displeasure affect him. The Headmaster had reprimanded him countless times, but he had always felt that James and his antics secretly pleased the man. Not now, though. There was no amusement in Dumbledore’s furious blue eyes.

“Albus-,” Lily tried to explain, and when Dumbledore turned to her, the rage in his eyes lessened. “He-.”

“Sirius Black made a promise,” Dumbledore continued coolly. “And by breaking that promise, he threatens the entire effort of the Order. The fact that he did so with hopefully good intentions means little in the face of the enormous risk he’s placing Mr. Snape in.”

Sirius scowled and felt his shame abet in the face of the rage now rearing up in him. Padfoot let out a low growl as he perceived Dumbledore’s tone and references to his mate.

“Albus, please,” Lily pleaded, “Sirius, he-.”

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow in expectation. “What, Mrs. Potter?” Lily seemed to wilt at his tone, and Sirius’s temper spun in him like cobwebs. He bit at his tongue to prevent himself from shouting. If he did, Dumbledore would not contact Snape for them. He would not know what to do then, and he could not afford that.

Lily glanced over at him, noted the sharp anger in his eyes, and decided to speak for him. “Sirius has…please, Albus. I was Severus’s best friend. Sirius told me out of necessity due to…”

“Due to what?” Dumbledore sighed as if they had incorrectly perceived their trivial plights as important in the face of the grander fight. Lily paused, thinking, and Sirius could tell she debated admitting Sirius’s true motives. Sirius had no desire for her to so casually reveal the truth of the matter to Dumbledore, so he gritted his teeth and spoke.

“He was protecting my brother,” he said roughly. “He came for my help when…I told Lily because she deserves to know.” He met Dumbledore’s eyes as if daring him to question his motivations. “Lily wants to reunite with him. I want to talk to him because he must know how Reggie died. We could have easily sent an owl,” he continued coolly. “But, of course, we didn’t want to risk his position.”

Dumbledore blinked, expression unreadable, but Sirius didn’t waver. The room remained silent for several long moments as Dumbledore regarded the two of them. Lily shifted under his piercing gaze, but Sirius stood firm.

“Very well,” he finally decided, voice muted but blue eyes flashing. “I will have to ask him, of course. And he may not wish to speak to the two of you.” Lily and Sirius nodded. Sirius felt a gaping sense of relief and prickling anticipation at the thought of seeing Snape again. It always staggered Sirius at how much he constantly missed him.

“Now?” Lily asked. Dumbledore tilted his head as he thought.

“I suppose I could do so now. He can meet us here, but again, it’s dependent on whether or not he wishes to come.”

“Yes, of course,” Lily agreed, hands fidgeting against her side. Padfoot practically keened at the possibility of seeing his mate again, and Sirius desperately wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms. He felt a rush of dread at the thought of Snape refusing.

Dumbledore regarded them a moment longer and then pulled out his wand to cast his Patronus. “Lily Potter and Sirius Black wish to speak to you if you are so inclined,” he said to the silver phoenix. “If so, please return to where you last saw him.” He waved the wand, and the phoenix disappeared.

They all waited in mute anticipation. Sirius felt horribly on edge as he awaited Snape’s response. His mind ran ceaselessly over everything he wanted to say and do, and he wondered how quickly he could get Snape alone.

Lily and Sirius both jolted when a slender fox bounded into the room. It slunk up to Dumbledore and spoke with the soft, silky voice of Severus Snape.

“Very well. Will be there shortly,” Snape said, and the fox vanished, dissolving into mist.

Lily fell silent as she stared at the vacant space that the small, silver fox had occupied. Sirius couldn’t read anything from her expression, and as he grew more agitated, he had to start pacing the room. He wondered how he would look – if his cheeks would be just as gaunt if not gaunter, if he was still too pale and skinny if he was recovering from any injuries – and oh, Regulus couldn’t help him anymore, so who _was_ helping him? There must have been times when he needed someone and Sirius - Sirius wasn’t there.

Sirius hadn’t been there. Oh god, would Snape even want to look at him again? Would Snape want anything Sirius so desperately needed? Would Snape turn away from him as the skin on Sirius’s hands cracked and his chest grew inflamed and his legs unraveled?

Would Snape shrug off Sirius’s apology? Would Snape –

Oh Merlin, he didn’t deserve Snape. He didn’t deserve Severus. Oh Merlin, what was he going to do?

His thoughts tumbled over themselves, and he rubbed at his temples as he felt a headache start to build. Dumbledore only watched him, blue eyes following his movements.

After what felt like an eternity, the door finally opened and Severus Snape slipped inside. Sirius froze when he saw him, the room suddenly feeling airless and far too tight. He grasped at the top of a chair to support himself and took in the man standing in the doorway.

Snape didn’t look unwell, per se, but he didn’t look healthy. His cheeks still had some sallowness, his cheekbones rising slightly. His nose still had its beaky appearance, his mouth still narrow, and hair still lank around his face. Black robes shrouded his figure so Sirius couldn’t judge his weight, but he imagined he would still find fragile ribs and sharp knobs of his spine under paper-thin skin. He looked as Sirius remembered him, and the familiarity felt like a relief.

Snape regarded the room, face passive and seemingly unbothered by the situation. His eyes flicked over to Sirius, and when their eyes met - defiant black peering into gray - Sirius felt the world fall out from underneath him.

“Severus,” Dumbledore greeted calmly, a sharp antithesis to the torrent of emotions in Sirius’s chest.

“Headmaster,” Snape indicated, and he stepped forward to shut the door behind him. He held his hands carefully at his sides, and Sirius thought of them touching him, and he had to swallow hard. “I believe-,” he began until Lily cut him off.

“Severus,” she gasped, and after a moment of hesitation and uncertainty, quickly crossed the room to pull him into a hug. Snape froze against her at first, eyes betraying his shock, but he eventually settled into it, hands carefully resting on her upper back.

Sirius ached to do the same and knew very little kept him from crossing the room and kissing Snape until the world burned to ashes.

“Lily,” he said in muted shock after they pulled back from each other. Lily smiled at him, and Snape stared at her as if he could hardly believe it. “I-,” he tried again, breaking off.

Lily reached out to rest a hand on his arm and smiled kindly at him. “Oh, Sev, why didn’t you tell me you were our spy?” she said softly. Snape seemed taken aback.

“I, I mean,” he fumbled, before shutting his eyes quickly to collect himself. “It would put you at risk. Knowing about me. We didn’t want to risk it,” he finished, seeming unsure. Lily shook her head.

“Still, Sev-” she started and then seemed to think better of it. “I understand. But I know now and you have no excuse not to talk to me anymore. You-I know,” she shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I know we haven’t talked for a while, but I miss you. And I would like, you know, to have my best friend back. If you are-.”

“Yes, Lily,” Snape interrupted. “I-I’m sorry.” Lily shushed him, and he seemed to tremble ever so slightly under her warm gaze.

“It’s alright. I don’t how think I realized exactly what you were going through. And I-I should have been a better friend for you,” Lily explained, shooting him a look when he looked about to protest. “No, really Sev. I…I let myself be blinded. I…there’s no excuse for it. I should have been there for you, and I wasn’t.” She paused, face contorted into an expression of remorse and shame. “It’s…I know it’s too late to change it. I don’t want to…I want to know you again, Severus. I want to be your friend again. A new beginning?” she asked hopefully, green eyes searching the black. After a long moment, Snape nodded, still looking stricken.

“A new beginning,” he repeated softly, and Lily smiled and pulled him into another hug. Sirius watched the entire exchange, unable to drag his eyes away from Snape. Emotion welled inside of him as he watched Snape and Lily rekindle their friendship.

Even if Snape despised him, he would at least know that he had given him that shining girl back. All the horror and fear and dread would be worthwhile, regardless of the cost.

They pulled away, Lily still smiling kindly at a still stricken Snape. Sirius expected him to turn to him next. His stomach curled in anticipation as his heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings.

Snape turned to Dumbledore.

“Did you, ah, set this up?” he asked carefully. Dumbledore smiled and shook his head.

“No, Lily came on her own behalf,” he clarified, but Lily shook her head.

“It was Sirius, Severus,” she said firmly. “He was the one.” Snape blinked slowly and then finally turned to face him. Sirius half-expected to collapse under the weight of his gaze and was surprised when he suddenly felt strengthened by it. He had laid claim to the man, Padfoot had marked him as his own, and the vitriol and hatred they had exchanged the night Reggie passed didn’t change that fact.

Sirius didn’t think about what he did next, only realized what he intended to do when he was half-way to Snape, and by then it was too late to stop. Lily realized and stepped aside, and then it was him and Snape, who stared at him with his fathomless eyes.

Sirius searched those eyes, those black, endless eyes, and for one surreal moment, he felt as if those eyes looked into him as if they had truly _seen_ him: the blunt weight of his apology and the searing heat of his shame and the bitter taste of his guilt and grief and then that undercurrent of something that Sirius could only label as love.

He could have sworn Snape saw it all in one spliced second of connection, and Sirius wanted for him to have it all. To have his soul and his heart and to understand that they only belonged to Snape, for Sirius had forfeited claim to them the moment he had decided to pick a fight with the man that warm night in April.

It was all too much, but then the connection snapped, and Snape simply peered up at him, head tilted slightly as if considering something.

Sirius searched the eyes, trying and failing to find a reason to stop. He breathed deeply to try to steady the frantic thump of his heart and stepped closer until he could feel the heat emanating off Snape.

He suppressed a growl that built in his throat, Padfoot far too eager for the proximity. Before he could doubt himself and still seeing no reason to stop, he wrapped his arms around Snape’s thin waist and pressed their foreheads together.

Snape drew in a sharp breath and tensed, but he didn’t pull away. Their breaths intermixed, and the desire seared the air between them. Sirius trembled against the force of stopping himself from kissing the other man; he had no right to. Only Snape did, if he willed it so. Only Snape who had no reason to forgive Sirius for his actions and who probably despised Sirius anyway and who really be served best by forgetting Sirius existed at all.

Sirius couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

He would die, he thought, if Snape continued to look at him like that.

It was Snape’s voice, murmured into the space between them. His voice low and rough and edging on vulnerable, and Sirius felt his heart burst in his chest.

“Desperate, Black?” And Sirius wanted to laugh at that because he _was_ desperate for Snape and had missed the man with a good part of his soul and entirety of his heart.

He lost track of everything, felt the world fade around them until it was only Snape and him and their every point of contact and Snape’s lips against his own. He pulled Snape closer, hands tightening around his waist, and Snape gripped onto his shirt, pale, scarred hands curling into the fabric.

The kiss felt like storm clouds clearing in the night sky to reveal a tapestry of stars.

Sirius only broke the kiss when he really thought he might die of asphyxiation. He didn’t want to let go of Snape just yet, so he pulled the man against him and breathed in deeply against the side of Snape’s head.

Snape smelled as Sirius remembered. His nose pressed into the crook of Sirius’s neck just as it had so many times before. After a moment, he relaxed in Sirius’s embrace, and Sirius wanted to both cry and laugh at the absurdity of it – that he, Sirius Black, had fallen so deeply in love with Severus Snape.

Finally, finally, they broke apart. Snape stared up at him, a peculiar expression in his eyes. His face had flushed, and he looked slightly breathless, and then just too really stick it to Sirius, he smiled with that small smile that lit up his eyes and left Sirius feeling breathless and in love.

The world outside of Snape came back to him with a sudden dawning realization, and Sirius startled when he realized Lily and Dumbledore still stood beside them. Lily smiled, green eyes shining, and her cheeks had tinged slightly red. Dumbledore, for all his carefully acquired knowledge and uncanny sense of the world, appeared completely stunned, before his blue eyes twinkled and he smiled.

Sirius scowled at him, unable to tamp down on how perturbed he felt now that his secret had spread to another. After months and months of secrecy, the sudden reveal grated against his skin. Snape stood quietly beside him, expression unreadable except for the redness of his lips.

He almost wanted the old man to criticize them or express outrage, just so that he would have an excuse to confront someone over Snape’s and his relationship. Dumbledore did none of that and looked at them with a note of pleasant surprise.

“May I ask how long?” he finally asked. Snape shifted beside him.

“Since last April,” Snape answered, voice low and sounding slightly hoarse. Sirius thought back to their fateful meeting and wondered for a brief second what would have happened if one of them hadn’t kissed the other. “But, we, ah, haven’t seen each other since October,” Snape continued, and Dumbledore paused, thinking.

“That was when-,” he said, and Snape nodded jerkily. Sirius winced at the memory. “Ah,” Dumbledore said, sparing them the need to go into details. Lily frowned, and Snape’s gaze flickered briefly back to her. He looked worried, and on an impulse, Sirius reached out to grab his hand. Snape’s hand was cold, but his elegant fingers threaded easily between Sirius’s.

“Well then,” Dumbledore continued, eyes lost in thought. “It didn’t appear you knew he was our spy?” He directed the question to Sirius, and Sirius scowled, trying to reign in the primal protectiveness he felt over Snape.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Git never told me,” he said, and Lily looked shocked at the insult. Even Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but Sirius shrugged it off. He could tell it hadn’t bothered Snape, only calling back to that shared hatred that had now warped into the profound love Sirius felt. It was alright, he thought, it was alright. Snape’s hand still rested easily in his own, and maybe everything would be okay.

“Yes,” Snape sighed, fingers twitching in Sirius’s grip. “Unfortunately, I suppose. However, it really was best that as few people knew about it as possible.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Sirius sighed, feeling slightly betrayed but also understanding of Snape’s motivation. He wouldn’t have told himself either. “When did you anyway?”

“August,” Snape said simply, and Sirius tried to pinpoint their relationship that month. That had been a month of…discovery. Of intimacy. Of him realizing Snape meant something to him.

“Why?” Sirius demanded again, turning back to stare at Snape. Something shifted in his black eyes, but his face remained passive. Snape took a long moment to respond.

“It may have taken me an unforgivably long time to recognize the Dark Lord for what he was, but once I did, I could no longer excuse his actions,” he explained, but Sirius knew there was more to it. He could see it in the tension around Snape’s eyes. He would have to press Snape on the issue when they were alone.

Lily looked at him with concern. “How have you…how have you managed?” she asked softly, and Snape frowned, thinking.

“I can protect my mind from him,” he finally explained. “So that he does not discover my transgression.”

“He also likes you, right?” Sirius added, flashing back on their conversations and the surprising realization that Voldemort valued Snape. “Would he ever think you would do something like this?”

Snape’s frown deepened, and his gaze flickered over to Dumbledore. “No, he wouldn’t. I don’t believe so. He believes…”

“Yes?” Sirius prompted, and Snape sighed. Sirius noticed that Snape shifted his weight so that he stood slightly closer to him, and he pressed his hand tenderly. 

“He believes us alike,” Snape admitted. Lily coughed in outrage.

“What? You’re nothing-,” she began to protest, but a shake of Snape’s head cut her off.

“We…yes, there are similarities,” Snape said quietly, and Sirius pressed his hand again.

“And differences, Severus,” Dumbledore stated firmly. Snape’s expression turned inward before he shook himself out of it.

“Yes, those too.”

“Care to elaborate?” Sirius asked softly. Snape glanced sideways at him but remained tense. Sirius ached to pull him into his arms again but resisted the urge.

“If you insist, Black,” Snape replied, voice distant. Sirius squeezed his hand, overcome with fondness. “The Dark Lord and I…of course, the Dark Lord is beyond my comprehension and possess more power-.”

“We know,” Sirius interrupted and leaned over to press a kiss against the side of Snape’s head.

“The Dark Lord and I share an adversarial childhood, I suppose one could say,” Snape continued coolly, voice almost clinical. Sirius saw Lily freeze out the corner of his gaze, and he felt ice break across his skin as he thought of that rotting house. “Disappointing fathers,” Snape said, seemingly unaware of their reactions. “A seething hatred for the entitled Gryffindor’s and the, excuse me Headmaster, but naïve, delusional Albus Dumbledore. A fascination with the Dark Arts. An interest in spell crafting. Such as that,” he finished, eyeing them each as if they would raise outrage or disdain.

Sirius nodded, thinking. He didn’t know all that much about Voldemort, but it sounded right enough. If Snape spoke the truth, then in a frightening sense, Snape _was_ similar to the man. Voldemort must have easily preyed on him for that.

“And differences?” Sirius inquired, mind searching over the possibilities. Snape shifted beside him, scowled but didn’t speak.

“I believe you and Lily could provide a good approximation,” Dumbledore said lightly, and Snape’s hand twitched in Sirius’s, tension suddenly radiating off the man. His scowl deepened, and he stared at the table with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Actually, you want to know why?” Sirius said with a start, the truth of it coming easily to him, “that you’re, what, not a mini-Dark Lord?” he asked, and Snape’s scowl didn’t relent. “You took care of my brother. You protected him.” Sirius suddenly found it difficult to speak, words growing thick. “He would have been alone without you. And you were there. For him. And I don’t think Voldemort would ever do something like that for anyone.” He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, and his eyes burned with unshed tears.

“You’re a good friend,” Lily followed, and Snape glanced up to look at her. “You are, really. You…love people, Sev. And, well, I think that’s the biggest difference of all.”

Snape looked stricken.

“Also pretty damn good in bed,” Sirius added lightly, and for the hell of it, pulled Snape into another world-ending type of kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ the drama ~ 
> 
> honestly, I adore this Sirius Black. He's far too much for me to handle, but I can't get enough of his moody poeticizing and desperate approach to love. 
> 
> And this Severus Snape - I've always thought of his spell crafting as very unique skill (the only other characters who seem to do this are Voldemort and Dumbledore - both wizards of significant power), so I like to write him as someone with enormous potential in terms of magic. My Voldemort in this story is something else, but I do like to think of him identifying somewhat with Severus - powerful, special, with awful fathers and overcoming their disgusting muggle roots.


	15. No One Else Left to Love

When Sirius finally broke off from the kiss, Snape’s cheeks were thoroughly flushed and his eyes a little distant. It took him a moment to refocus on Sirius, eyes narrowing but face remaining neutral. He glanced downwards, taking a few breaths to steady himself, and then turned back to the others.

“I’m,” he began slowly, taking his time to find the words. “I’m sure this must come as somewhat of a surprise.”

Lily snorted. “Yes, it does. And the whole thing with Sirius too, really. But I’m…happy about it, you know. I’m happy that you’re here,” she ended softly and reached out to brush a strand of hair behind Snape’s ear. Snape flushed, eyes darting downward. His mouth tightened as he thought for a moment.

“Why did,” he turned to Sirius, “why did you tell her? I was under the impression you had no interest…” he trailed off, the meaning clear enough. Sirius sighed and wondered how the hell to broach the topic of Snape’s childhood. Lily shared a concerned look with him, and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Umm, Albus, do you mind letting us talk privately for a moment?” he asked, trying not to flinch under Dumbledore’s intense stare. He nodded after a moment of regarding them and left the room. Lily closed the door, and for good measure, cast a silencing spell. Snape blinked at it but didn’t comment.

“We should probably sit,” Lily suggested, and Sirius nodded. He pulled out a seat at the large oak table and pulled Snape into the one beside him. Lily sat beside him on the other side, face somber.

A frown flickered across Snape’s face, but he seemed to collect himself and stared at them passively. Sirius sighed and reached out to stroke Snape’s cheek, fingers tingling at the soft skin and sharp jut of his cheekbone. Snape didn’t react, so Sirius settled for holding his hand.

“I tried to find you,” Sirius finally managed to say, searching deep within himself to find the strength and drive to relay what he needed to say. He had anticipated this moment for weeks, and finally here, he had to act as the Gryffindor he had always presented himself as. Courageous. Strong. Able, despite everything, to bear his heart and finally speak honestly. 

He could not be a Slytherin. He could not act like his mother. Even if it risked everything.

“Oh, I haven’t been,” Snape began slowly, gaze fixed on a whorl in the wooden table. “I am currently residing in Malfoy Manor and have had little reason to leave besides…” he fell silent, and Sirius noted how empty and sterile his voice sounded. He recognized the tone; it was the way Snape talked when he wished to hide his true feelings.

Sirius scowled. “Well, I guess that’s better than you just ignoring me. But still.”

“You’re staying with Lucius Malfoy?” Lily asked surprised, and Snape nodded. Sirius pressed on.

“Well, I’ve been trying to talk with you. Ever since I saw you here. I…,” he broke off, smoothed his thoughts, swallowed his pride and continued. “I wanted to apologize. For what I said. All of it. I haven’t been…you deserved…you deserved not me. And I’m sorry that it was.” He paused and laughed awkwardly. “And I’ve missed your ugly face. And I wanted it back. You back.” The words skittered close to the heart of the matter, and Sirius felt an uncomfortable mixture of elation and nausea. Snape didn’t speak for a moment, only pressed Sirius’s hand, and through that gesture, Sirius conjectured that Snape understood. 

He wondered if Snape shared in his emotions. He had always thought their rages comparable; he wondered if their love was too.

“I want to apologize also,” Snape said, voice low and firm. “I should not have said those things to you. I was - I’m sorry I didn’t do more to protect your brother. His death is largely my fault, and you have every right to blame me for it.”

Sirius jolted, and Lily let out a small sound and gripped hard at the armrests. “Your fault?” Sirius asked delicately, speculating if Snape’s involvement had run deeper than what it appeared. Snape looked grim, a small frown set on his face.

“Yes,” Snape confessed. “I…I should have done more to stop him. I should have forced my help onto him, so that-.”

“Shut up,” Sirius ordered, trying not to sound frustrated. “Reggie’s death is as much my fault as it is yours. I should have been there for him too, okay? And you didn’t kill him, Snape. He made that choice himself.” Snape flinched but didn’t argue. Sirius shut his eyes against the silence of the room and tried to calm his outrage and steady his heart.

“Anyway,” Sirius finally continued, opening his eyes again to look at Lily. She stared back distressed, and Sirius tried to imagine how she must feel. To face an old friend she had thought lost and with the terrible knowledge of what Sirius had discovered. To face that old friend and realize that while he had fallen off the path, he had never truly lost the core of himself.

“Anyway,” he repeated, steadying himself. Snape sat beside him passively. “I couldn’t figure out how to get to you. I mean, I still didn’t really want anyone to know. Thought it could be risky if I owled. But I,” he paused in preparation. “I tricked Lily into telling me where you lived. I thought your parents would know. Or at least be able to reach out to you for me.” Sirius stared closely at Snape who had frozen at the words, eyes growing muted as he shuttered himself away.

“I went,” Sirius murmured. “I went, and I met them. And I found…I found in your room some…of your stuff. Under your floor.” Snape appeared to have stopped breathing, and he stared unseeingly at a spot on the wall. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have gone, I know that. But I’m sorry.”

“Lily?” Snape exhaled through his teeth, eyes blank and face numb.

“I had to tell someone. It was too much for me alone. I thought she would…” Sirius fell silent as he regarded the man, thought about those drawings, and about how he shared his nose with his father. He tried to fathom how Snape must feel as Sirius thrust his horrific childhood into the light, and he cringed at the tense discomfort.

“Sev,” Lily whispered in a low, pained voice. She reached out to grab at his other hand, wrapping her fingers around his pale ones. He didn’t react, and he stared distantly in front of him, face passive and body unmoving.

He blinked once. Twice. He drew in a great shuddering breath that caused his hands to start to tremble in their grasps. He clenched his eyes shut, agony laying its first touches across his face. Sirius and Lily exchanged a concerned look, but neither spoke. They waited as Snape fought his childhood demons.

He eventually spoke, voice rough and agonized. He kept his eyes shut, eyelashes laying against sallow skin. “Ah,” he began, trying to sound unperturbed. However, his voice trembled, and his clutch on their hands tightened. “I, ah, never really wanted anyone to know,” he whispered, swallowing hard.

Lily brought Snape’s hand to her mouth and pressed it against her lips. Snape shuddered and tried to pull his hand away. Lily held it there, green eyes peering insistently at her friend. “Why-,” she tried to ask. “Why didn’t anyone know, Sev? Not even, I mean – you were allowed to return there? And, and-.”

Sirius looked grimly at the man, thinking of his own impassioned pleas to remain at Hogwarts over the summer. And remembering Dumbledore’s firm no.

Snape frowned at her question and took a long moment to respond. “Slughorn couldn’t have cared less about me. I believe, um, Dumbledore never took the time to look. There wasn’t much sympathy for me. Not with--,” he broke off, frown deepening. He opened his eyes and looked over at Sirius who winced. They, least of all, viewed Snape as someone deserving of help and encouraged others to see the same. “Lucius did, in a way,” he continued softly. “And the Dark Lord, but he knows all.”

“He was the way out?” Sirius asked, finally understanding what Snape had meant in the bathtub many months ago. Voldemort offered an escape from a place Snape could never have returned. There had been no one else, no other path forward.

Snape paused and then nodded. “Yes, but please don’t misunderstand,” he stressed. “I still…I still believed in him. I doubt I would have joined him so young, but he still offered…offered what I had always wanted.”

“Power,” Sirius said simply, and Snape nodded again, looking troubled.

“How old were you?” Lily still held Snape’s hand up to her face, his fingers pale and trembling. She gazed at him with concern, and finally, he met her gaze.

“Sixteen,” he confessed shamefully. “In the summer after my fifth year.” Lily didn’t react to the admission, firmly maintaining her gaze. “It was after,” he continued thickly, “I’m still so sorry about that, Lily – I should never have called you that. _Anyone_ that. And I-,”

Lily shushed him. “It’s alright. Just don’t say it again, okay?” Snape nodded, relief fracturing across his face. His fingers twitched, brushing against her cheek. “So Lucius?”

“He offered to let me brew in his manor that summer. He said he would pay, and I needed the money,” he admitted. “But he also said I needed to understand what they would come to expect of me. That to accept his hospitality, I had to…I knew, of course. But I went anyway.” He paused and licked his pale lips. “I didn’t receive Mark until I graduated, the risk of course, but that merely formalized it.”

“Would you…would you have made the same decision?” Lily asked carefully. “If you…if it wasn’t as it was?”

Snape frowned, and Sirius watched closely, nervous for his answer. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I still hated Potter and Black and all of them. I wanted revenge, and the Dark Lord would have still offered me that. But I don’t think…I wouldn’t have been so young. Nor so desperate.”

No one spoke for a long beat, and Sirius thought over Snape’s words and the spiraling possibilities and the paths not taken and the choices they had made. He wondered what would have happened if they had never run into each other on the Hogwarts Express. If they had been sorted into different houses. If small decisions hadn’t cascaded into much larger ones.

He wondered if he still would have fallen in love with him. If, he wondered, they would have started their relationship in a healthier, romantic way that didn’t involve Snape bleeding in a dirty alleyway.

It was all meaningless, he knew. What happened had happened. Speculation changed nothing.

Snape seemed to shake himself out of something. He glanced back over at Sirius, expression softening slightly. Sirius blinked and stared back, repressing the urge to lean forward and kiss him.

“I’m sure my parents weren’t thrilled to see you?” he asked with forced levity. He paused, thinking. “What did you even tell them?”

Sirius grimaced. “That I was some potion apprentice? And that we were thinking of hiring you and wanted to scope you out a little bit more. I figured, you know, that your parents would have…your mother wasn’t happy to see me.”

Snape huffed out a laugh but the end of it caught in his throat. “I bet. Can I see what you found?” he asked, voice quiet yet firm. Sirius nodded and reached into his jean pocket to pull out the figurines. He placed them on the table and cast the spell to transfigure them back.

The abused teddy bear lay sideways, black eyes looking almost sorrowfully up at Snape. The book lay beside it, and the small cookie tin remained firmly shut. Sirius had rolled up the pictures again and tied a string around them.

Snape reached out to gently hold the teddy bear, fingers carefully wrapping around its torn, matted fur. He frowned, brought it close to his face, and sighed as the teddy bear stared mutely back at him. He then placed it back on the table and traced his fingers over the ragged book and rusty cookie tin. He ignored the drawings.

“How old were you?” Lily asked suddenly, the words almost unbidden. She blushed with shame and looked about to retract the question, but Snape spoke, voice frighteningly empty.

“Six. I…they were drunk. And Pa’s friend, Smithy, had always looked at me funny. I tried to tell Ma about it but she hit me. Told me not to tell lies. So I, um, I didn’t.” He paused, the words quiet in their intensity and almost frantic through the forced calm. “It hurt though, loads. More than any of the beatings. The shame, also was…that was the hardest part- and Smithy thought it meant, well, he came back, you see. He was my Pa’s best mate and I-.” Snape broke off, hands trembling and breathing shallowly. Pain flickered over his irises, but otherwise, his face remained impassive as if the words and memories held no influence over his body.

“Oh, Sev,” Lily cried out softly. She reached out to pull Snape into her arms. He leaned uncomfortably over the armrest, but he seemed not to care as he clung onto Lily, face pressed against her shoulder. His shoulders trembled, and Sirius could hear him as he broke out into quiet sobs. He ached to offer some comfort, so he rested his hand on Snape’s back. He rubbed circles against the thick black robes and felt the pressing of Snape’s bony spine. His throat ached painfully as his heart broke for the man.

No one did anything for a long while. Then, finally, Snape’s sobs subsided, and he pulled back from Lily, eyes downcast and body tense. Sirius kept his hand pressed against Snape’s back; he didn’t want to break contact, not yet. Snape didn’t shrug him away.

Lily drew in a deep breath and reached out to cup the side of Snape’s face. Green and black stared at each other, the green warm and the black softening. “Sev, we’ll get dinner soon, okay? But I do really think Sirius wishes to speak to you. And so it might be time for me to leave.”

Snape nodded jerkily, and Lily smiled kindly. As she stood, she pressed a kiss against Snape’s forehead who blushed, and then, for good measure, on Sirius’s cheek. Then it was the two of them – breaths ragged and heartbeats quick and muscles tense and black eyes meeting gray and making the world shatter under a luminescent sky.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius found he didn’t have all that much to say. Or perhaps more accurately, he had far too much to say. So he settled for what he thought would work best – his lips against Snape’s.

It was two mouths moving against each other, two tongues meeting again, two bodies desiring the other, two hearts beating in tandem.

Snape moaned into his mouth, the sound delicious and sorely missed. Lust lapped against Sirius like an ocean wave, and he felt the crests building inside him – building and crashing, building and crashing.

Snape felt cold, hands only just warmed by Sirius’s and Lily’s grip, but they ran through Sirius’s hair with a tenderness that made his throat ache. Sirius gripped at his side, sensing the shift of muscle under the robes, and he resisted the urge to rip the black robes to shreds to reveal alabaster skin.

Sirius deepened the kiss and then began on Snape’s neck, mouthing the soft flesh where jaw met neck and moving downwards until Snape’s blasted collar ended the stretch of skin.

“Black,” Snape said breathlessly, and while the name felt comfortable and familiar, Sirius suddenly didn’t want it. He wanted _Sirius_. And he realized, he wanted what that represented. The intimacy. The forgiveness. The love.

He wasn’t sure if Snape would give it to him. He knew he didn’t deserve it. But _Sirius_.

He whispered his name into Snape’s ear, hot breath tickling his pale skin and ebony hair. Snape didn’t respond for a long beat, hands falling slack in Sirius’s hair. Sirius flushed in shame. Shame at his want and his stupid fucking heart and the way he finally felt alive again after weeks and weeks and weeks.

Then Snape whispered his own name into the fragile space between them. Sirius thought he would simply just die, so he kissed the man with every inch of his soul.

They broke away panting. Snape stared at him, face flushed and eyes bright and heated. “Bed?” he tried to say wryly, but if came out more like a wheeze. Sirius grinned, standing up and gripping Snape at his forearm and preparing to-

Marlene.

Snape noticed his unease and glanced up at him, head tilting in confusion. Emotions quickly passed over his face, unidentifiable, and then he pulled his forearm away from Sirius. He ran his hands down his front to smooth himself out and frowned, eyes muted.

“I, ah, I shouldn’t have presumed,” Snape said cautiously. Sirius wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all – his beautiful, kind girlfriend waiting in his apartment and his cold, caustic lover standing beside him.

“No, I mean,” Sirius protested, and then tried to decide how best to tell the man he loved about his girlfriend. He wondered, a little more desperately, if Snape had a place they could go and a bed to share. But, no – he had mentioned staying at Malfoy’s. Sirius didn’t think Voldemort would take too kindly to him in Snape’s bed.

“The girl you saw me with,” he forced out, and he felt Snape tense beside him. Sirius sunk back into his chair and frowned. “We’re, um, I guess we’re still technically together. She’ll be at my…” The lack of emotion in Snape’s eyes cut him off. “Severus?” he tried, tasting the name on his tongue. Snape didn’t react.

“I understand,” he stated simply. “Well, I suppose I will see you around.”

“Huh?” Sirius asked before understanding. “No, Sna-Severus. I want you. Just that I can’t take you to my bed? But I still – I _want_ you.”

Snape attempted to smile, but it failed miserably. “Si-Sirius.” Sirius trilled at his name, “I don’t want to-.”

“You’re not,” he stressed. “You’re not. You-you understand right? Marlene is sweet and all, but she’s not–not you.”

“Far better,” Snape modified, voice still eerily empty.

“Maybe. But I don’t want that. I thought I did, you know. She’d be the type of girl I’d marry. And I, um, I tried,” Sirius said heavily. “Tried to love her.” He swallowed, avoided Snape’s gaze. “But I didn’t…it was always you.”

The silence stretched. Sirius felt the gentle lapping of desire morph into a crashing wave of shame and humiliation and pain. He wanted to hurt something, hurt himself, because it was unbearable – this tense dread over Snape’s next words. He thought he would die.

Snape finally spoke, voice low and rough. “I suppose…I suppose this would,” he broke off and gathered his nerve. “I suppose this would be an appropriate time for me to tell you that I’ve loved you for quite some time? Unless of course, I’m misreading your intent. In which case, I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sirius ordered roughly, and Snape stopped and looked at the floor. He held his hands carefully in front of him. Sirius couldn’t manage to speak past the lump in his throat, so he reached and clutched at Snape’s hand. He looked over at the man, overwhelmed, but Snape remained unresponsive, face tight as he stared at the carpet.

Sirius knew if he tried to stand his knees would give out, so he remained seated, holding onto Snape’s cold hand as they tried to navigate through the oppressive silence. Sirius wondered if he should have met Snape’s admission with jubilation, but he needed the silence. The moment to think. To breathe. To recognize the implication of a love shared between them.

“When…when did you know?” Sirius asked breathlessly, swallowing hard against the words.

Snape didn’t move and spoke in a low whisper. “That night we discussed my scars. And you apologized. I knew I could hurt you. I thought I would want to. But I didn’t. I…didn’t want to do that to you, Sirius.”

Sirius remained still at the words, and he thought of that small scar on Snape’s hip and of Snape kissing him when Sirius lay defenseless beside him. “I realized,” he confessed, words slow and uncertain. “I realized when James and Remus were talking about their, um, their girlfriends. And I wanted to tell them about what you do in the morning, with the omelet and all that, and how that…I didn’t, but I think that’s when I finally admitted it to myself.”

Snape gave a jerky nod, and Sirius glanced back over at him, desperate to see his black eyes and the soul they contained. Snape continued to stare at the carpet, hair hiding most of his face, and Sirius his stomach turn with apprehension. It didn’t make sense – they had both admitted their love to the other. They should be jumping with joy into each other’s arms, not tense and hesitant.

But then again, Sirius realized, they had ended on terrible terms. So even though there was love, they had lost the trust they had slowly built. Their careful intimacy lay shredded between them, and love alone couldn’t salvage it.

“Severus?” Sirius asked, Snape frowned but didn’t respond. He still kept his face turned away, and Sirius wondered what ran through that brilliant mind. He wondered how his heart felt beating against the fragile concave of his ribs.

Sirius sighed and stood. He reached out to pull the smaller man into his arms, and he felt the familiar lines of tension press against him as Snape remained stiff. He held him for a long moment, allowing them both time to adjust to the closeness. Sirius didn’t kiss him; instead, he spoke gently, feeling Snape tense against him.

“How about this? I’ll break up with Marlene tonight, okay? And then would you want to get drinks at the bar we first met at? And we can talk some more? I promise I won’t try to fight you.”

He felt Snape smirk into the crook of his shoulder, and he nearly cried at the feeling of relief.

“Worried you’ll lose?” Snape teased roughly, failing to disguise the full extent of his emotions under humor.

Sirius barked out a laugh regardless. “In your dreams.”

Snape pulled back and stared up at Sirius with a small smile on his face. “Eight tonight?”

Sirius pulled a face. “Not sure I’ll be able to wait that long,” he grumbled, and Snape rolled his eyes in amusement. “Eight then,” he agreed. They smiled at each other, and Sirius felt the new beginning bloom in the space between them.

Snape leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss on Sirius’s cheek, as Lily had done, and then with a flick of his black robes, he turned and left, leaving Sirius pressing his fingers against his tingling cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mhmm, finally our love confession. I don't want to paint this as a healthy relationship by any means, but I do think they really love each other. The kind of love that they don't know how to handle just yet.
> 
> I've also written 90% of a sequel. I had planned initially for a quicker one-shot but it got away from me and I ended up writing about 20k words. I'm towards the end, and I'm very happy with it. I think it will be a fitting sequel to this story. 
> 
> Thank you again for all the comments and reads!


	16. Come Join the Rest

Marlene had started crying, arms pulled around her waist. She leaned against the kitchen counter, red-rimmed eyes searching Sirius’s.

Sirius stared back at her helplessly. He couldn’t tamp down on the horrible sense of guiltiness: guilt worsened by the fact that despite the difficulty of the breakup, he still felt excited that he had the chance to resume things with Snape.

He was a terrible person. He knew that now, after realizing what he had done to Snape and Reggie. Nights like this didn’t make it any better.

“Sirius,” Marlene sniffled. Sirius watched her uselessly. “I can’t say I didn’t see this coming.”

“You did?” Sirius asked surprised. Marlene nodded and met his eyes.

“You’ve been pulling away recently,” she explained slowly, and Sirius was about to protest until Marlene shook her head. “You have. It was ever, ever since we saw,” she tried to mouth something but no sound came out, and Sirius knew only Dumbledore’s spell prevented her from saying his name. She rubbed at the tears on her cheeks. Sirius took a step closer.

“Marlene…” he tried, but she shook her head again.

“Why, Sirius?” she demanded. “If nothing else, at least you owe me this.”

Their gazes met and held, and Sirius tried to figure out what to say. However, the look in her eyes demanded honesty. At the very least, he owed that to her.

“Yes,” he responded, and Marlene blinked in confusion.

“Yes?”

“It was…him,” Sirius struggled, “We ran into each other in a bar. A while back. We were, um, lovers.” He finished quietly, and Marlene stared at him in shocked silence.

“Did you-do you love him?” she asked, voice raw, and Sirius could only manage a nod. Marlene gasped and shut her eyes. “Did you-did you ever love me?” Sirius shut his eyes against the wave of guilt and shame.

“I wanted to,” he admitted. “I really, truly did, Marlene. If I was a better-.”

“Shut up,” Marlene interrupted, and Sirius did so. Marlene took a moment to steady herself, rubbing at her face as tears ran down her cheeks. “Okay,” she whispered, “Okay.” She drew in a breath and straightened herself out, standing tall as she faced him. “Thank you for your honesty,” she said firmly, a spasm of pain flickering over her face. “I would like to yell at you, but I don’t think…the war has made me tired, and I think it would be best if we just went our separate ways”

Marlene nodded to herself, set her mouth into an unflinching line, and headed to the door. Before she slipped outside, Sirius jolted himself out of the reverie and rushed over to her.

Blue met gray again, and Sirius knew he should say more. He owed Marlene far more than he could ever fully express, and even though he never loved her, he did like her, made even more significant by the fact that he rarely liked anyone.

He hoped they would be friends someday. That, with time, they would come around to each other and build a relationship that was honest and right. He wanted to tell her that, but he didn’t know how without sounding like an asshole.

“Take care, Marlene,” he finally settled on. Marlene blinked and reached out to pull him into a hug. He held her for perhaps the last time, her slim body warm against his.

“You too, Sirius,” she whispered back. They held each other for a moment longer, before Marlene pulled away.

“Goodbye, Sirius,” she said, and then she was gone.

**++++++++++++**

Snape sat where he had that one night in April, squeezed into the back corner, and masked in shadow. Sirius crossed directly towards him, trying not to envision his past-self tracing these steps. His phantom-self twitched next to him, angry and itching for a fight. However, when Snape glanced up and saw him, he didn’t regard him with glaring hatred as he had once done but rather with that small smile that lit up his eyes.

Sirius ignored everyone else the bar, the world growing foggy beyond Snape. He slid in across from the man and noted that Snape had ordered two Muggle beers. Sirius took a sip of his, stomach twisting with nerves. It was an unfamiliar feeling; he was never one to lack easy arrogance.

The words caught in his throat like a cat’s claw, and he frowned at both his apprehension and awkwardness. He wanted Snape, he knew that with certainty, but unlike before, he didn’t know how to get the other man into his bed in a way that befit their relationship.

Snape spoke first, and he sounded controlled, voice conveying nothing of an inner turmoil. “Bla-Sirius,” he stumbled, “If you wish to continue things with, ah, Marlene, then I can leave quickly. It would be of little issue.”

Sirius frowned and looked up to meet Snape’s eyes. For a moment, he thought Snape meant the words. Then, through a ray of clarity, he realized Snape didn’t believe that Sirius would want him over anyone else.

“No,” Sirius responded, shaking his head. “I ended it with her. It’s you I want.” Snape nodded, lips twitching downwards as he thought.

“Are you certain, Black-Sirius? You said-,” Snape continued, face reserved.

“Yes,” Sirius declared. “Yes.”

“But-.”

Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wooden table. “I said…I said if I was a better person, I would be with Marlene.” Snape nodded, hands held carefully in his lap. Sirius frowned. “And I think…I mean, I think you wouldn’t want to be with me either? Or I mean,” he stumbled. “I don’t think I’m a very good person anymore. Not with…”

“You’re not, Sirius,” he stated quietly, gaze flickering over to briefly meet Sirius’s.

Sirius swallowed hard and nodded too many times. Of course, he wasn’t. Of course, Snape wouldn’t waste his breath denying what had become so abundantly clear to Sirius.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius apologized, closing his eyes as he could no longer bear to look at Snape. “I am. And I think…I think I’ve realized you’re a far better person than I thought. Or…”

“I’m not either, Sirius,” Snape cut in.

“Hmm?”

“A good person,” Snape explained. His expression harshened. “I think we both know that about each other.”

Sirius tapped his fingers anxiously against the table. “Yes, I think we do,” he whispered, words like molasses in his throat. “So that’s why…I don’t want Marlene. I want you. And I want…I want to try to be better. To you.”

Snape blinked, regarding him for a moment. Sirius swallowed hard and stared at his beer. Everything weighed down on him – the guilt, the shame, the acknowledgment that something had gone wrong with him and that like Snape, he had made far too many mistakes for anyone to consider him a good person. He had tried to murder a boy when he was fifteen, and Snape had joined a murderous cult, and all felt lost and wrong. Only with Snape did he feel he could admit honestly to it.

“Very well,” Snape said simply. “How would you like this to proceed?”

How _did_ he want this to proceed? With Snape in his arms, of course. But what else? Snape and Sirius proclaiming their love from the rooftops? He grimaced at the thought; that would be the very last thing they could do in this godforsaken war.

“Well as I see it now,” Sirius began slowly, taking another drink of the beer and trying to organize his clamoring thoughts. “We, uh, love each other. Somehow, someway, we both ended up in love. With each other. Now, that means I want you in bed, Sn-Severus. That’s pretty much a given for me. I assume…I assume you want the same.”

Snape nodded, and Sirius let out a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“So, yeah. We can go back to that, at least?” Sirius reaffirmed. “Um,” he sighed, “so as of now, Lily and Dumbledore know. Have you told anyone?”

Snape shook his head. “No. No one knows.” He paused. “I imagine Potter won’t be pleased.”

Sirius snorted, shook his head, and took another drink. “No, he won’t.”

“You don’t have to tell him, Sirius,” Snape continued quietly. “You don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want. It’s…risky, of course, and I can understand if you would-.”

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, cutting Snape off. “I…it might be best to let it play out some more. Before we start telling anyone else. Just, it’s risky, Severus. And god forbid anything gets back to Voldemort.” Snape flinched, and Sirius frowned. “But it’s not because I’m not…frankly, James and Remus won’t understand, but they’d get around to it eventually. And we’ve got Lily on our side. I’m not…you’re important to me and I want to…but this war makes it more complicated, and I don’t want to see you hurt because of me.”

Snape sighed. “Yes. It would be…dangerous for this to reach my master’s ears. Especially if it would appear to indicate any softening on the Light.”

Sirius furrowed his brows and tilted his head. “Is he still…?”

Snape tensed and nodded. “Yes,” he stated simply.

“Well, you’re mine,” he said in a low voice. Snape nodded and glanced downwards, biting at his lip.

“He…” Snape started and then broke off. Sirius waited for him to speak, and the silence stretched. “He speaks to me of…assuming a high role in his ranks. A, um, trusted role.”

“A wife?” Sirius joked, but Snape didn’t laugh.

“I hope not,” Snape said quietly. “More of a-a, I suppose as you so aptly put it, a mini-Dark Lord. He believes me powerful, wishes to reshape me in his image, is…fond of me.” Snape traced a pattern into the table, and Sirius followed the movement of the thin fingers.

“He’s got some weird pillow talk, has he?” Sirius joked again, wincing in frustration at himself until Snape laughed. It was a low, rich sound.

“Yes,” he agreed. “You’re much…more preferable.” Sirius snorted, and Snape glanced upwards, eyes glinting with relieved amusement. And affection, Sirius thought. The greasy bastard actually seemed to like him.

Sirius sobered and thought over the words, wondering over the man before him. “You baffle me, Severus,” he finally decided, and Snape smiled wirily at him. “You’re Voldemort’s favorite, powerful by the sound of it, and yet you-you-shit, should we be talking about this here?”

Snape tilted his head and smiled again. On an impulse, Sirius stretched out his leg to rest it against Snape’s calf. “Scream if you’d like. No one can hear us.”

“Really?” Sirius tried to think of a spell that would do such a trick in such a crowded area but came up blank.

“ _Muffliato,_ ” Snape clarified, and Sirius tried to think of the spell and if he had heard it in any classes. Snape noticed his confusion. “It’s my own creation. Fills people’s ears with a buzzing sound so they can’t eavesdrop. Works well in crowded areas.”

“You invent spells?” Sirius asked, and Snape looked at him in surprise.

“Yes, of course, surely you knew?” he asked. Sirius stared at him incredulously. “ _Levicorpus?”_

“You invented _Levicorpus_?” Sirius gasped in surprise, and Snape looked as if a firmly held conviction had exploded in his face.

“Yes, in our fourth year.”

“But-?”

“Rosier saw my notes,” Snape glowered. “It was everywhere soon enough. A favorite of your gang of miscreants.” Sirius leaned back and gauged Snape with a new sense of respect. Snape only scowled.

“That was a great spell,” he complimented. Snape arched an eyebrow skeptically. “It really was.” He winced. “Sorry about using it against you.”

Snape’s scowl lessened. “I thought you knew?” he asked in confusion, and Sirius shook his head.

“No, I mean, no. Knew you were good at potions and all that and were pretty damn smart, but we didn’t know you invented spells. I didn’t know…I didn’t know you could do that. Unless you’re like Dumbledore level. And one of my favorite spells to boot.”

“Yes, well I did,” Snape said, flushing at the compliment. Sirius suppressed the urge to lean forward to kiss him.

“So you really are a powerful wizard then, huh?” Sirius sighed and leaned forward. “Can I ask why the hell you gave that up? Your mini-lordship or whatever?”

Snape stared at his hands and didn’t respond for a long moment. “I made a mistake,” he admitted. “And I…I knew what I was doing was wrong.”

“What mistake?” Sirius asked gently, and Snape stared passively at his hands.

“I told the Dark Lord about the, um, the prophecy,” he confessed. Sirius froze, mind flashing over the frantic discovery in August that the Dark Lord now hunted James and Lily and their precious child. Rage swelled at in him, and he set his mouth tightly.

“You did?” he said coldly, trying to tamp down on the surge of anger and scathing betrayal. Snape gazed back, expression muted.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I overheard the beginning of it. I didn’t know it would be them. I went to Dumbledore. When the Dark Lord decided it would be-.”

Sirius felt some of his rage abate as he listened to Snape and thought of his relationship with Lily. After seeing them together, it was difficult to imagine Snape pleased over the turn of events. Likely, it tormented him. It would be as if Sirius had betrayed James – the thought cut deep and he shuddered.

The silence lay tense between them until Sirius sighed and leaned back in his seat, anger abandoned in the face of Snape’s guilt.

“I can’t say I’m happy about that,” Sirius grimaced, “but I guess - I guess I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Snape said carefully, staring back at his hands. He breathed raggedly as if every breath tormented. Sirius regarded him grimly.

“Do you know who the Secret-Keeper is?” he asked cautiously, anxious over the breadth of the Death Eater’s knowledge. He desperately hoped his ploy would hold up.

Snape frowned. “No, we, the Death Eaters, assume it’s you. But we shouldn’t talk about this, Sirius. There’s too much risk.”

Sirius felt a measure of relief at the words and nodded. “You think you would tell Voldemort?” he asked, trying to gauge the man across from him.

“No, but he could use legilimens.” Snape noted the concern from Sirius and elaborated. “I can generally protect my mind. But there’s always a risk.”

“Could he find out about-?” Sirius asked with a note of worry, gesturing between the two of them.

“Of course,” Snape responded smoothly.

“And what would he-?”

“Fortunately,” Snape said silkily, “we don’t fuck each other in the most loving manner. If the Dark Lord did happen to see, it would be easy enough to construe it as-.”

“Hate,” Sirius finished. Snape nodded and took a sip of the warming beer. “Speaking of us fucking…” he arched an eyebrow, and Snape blushed endearingly. “Want to get out of here?”

Snape rolled his eyes amused, downed the rest of his beer, and stood. Sirius followed closely behind, stomach heating in anticipation. He felt an electrifying thrill and rich happiness when Snape slipped his hand into Sirius’s. They ventured into the rainy London streets together, hands intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So good news - I was inspired and finished the sequel! It's 10 chapters, 25k words, and I accidentally switched tenses halfway through as I momentarily forgot how to write in the past tense. It should be a good followup, and I'll plan for it to take my Friday update spot when I complete this story. 
> 
> With that, I can hardly believe we're nearing the end of this...the next chapter is one that makes me really happy though. It's a well-deserved chapter after all this. 
> 
> (Also, I did realize towards the end that my timing is a little off. I changed gears on this story about halfway through and had to add the canon storyline back in, that's why we get some mention of it here why it wasn't super heavily tackled in the beginning)
> 
> Thanks again for taking the time to read it!


	17. Give Up On the Night

Kissing Snape felt like learning to breathe again, and Sirius pressed into him like a drowning man.

They had quickly discarded their clothes, Sirius only pausing to wince at a new scar that slashed across Snape’s upper chest and Snape to comment on Sirius’s new tattoo of a prowling lion.

“Trite,” Snape said bemused as his fingers traced over the lion’s silhouette, and Sirius pushed him back onto the bed. Sirius fell on top of him, kissing him along his forehead and nose and cheeks and jaw and running his hands over his body with a frantic need.

Snape had flushed red, fingers tangled in Sirius’s hair. He rubbed upwards into the other man, pulling at the hem of Sirius’s shirt. Sirius moaned, and he felt himself growing hard, desire laying thick and heated on his skin.

They moved together, actions initially hesitant and unsure before muscle memory eased the movements. Snape ended up on top, skin slick against Sirius. It was messy and rushed – two bodies thrusting and rubbing and pressing with increasing abandon as intimacy and lust overwhelmed.

Snape came with a cry, and then Sirius did too, throwing his head back at the wave of pleasure. He lay languidly afterward, utterly spent but exhilarated. Snape lay in his arms, eyes shut and body relaxed. Sirius traced his skin lazily and tried to bottle this feeling of complete contentment.

Afterward, he pulled Snape into the shower and washed him under the stream of water. He ran his hands lovingly over the pale scars and knobby bones and kissed his hands and knees. He massaged shampoo into Snape’s hair, moving tenderly as the soap foamed and slowly washed away.

They didn’t speak, and Sirius knew the act was sacred.

When he finished, he wrapped his arms around Snape’s bony hips and pulled his back against his chest. He held him underneath the water, skin slippery and wet and warm.

He buried his nose into the crook of Snape’s neck, feeling Snape’s hair stick against his cheek. Sirius spoke into the space behind Snape’s ear, arms tightening around Snape’s hips as he pulled him closer.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He stopped, breathed, kissed the spot where Snape’s jaw met his neck.

“I understand if you want,” he continued, knowing now he had to do better. “I…I betrayed you…and I…I’m not good…not like how I should be…I’m sorry.”

He found he couldn’t speak anymore, so he just held Snape. He imprinted the feel of Snape against him and memorized the touch of his fingers against Snape’s shallow stomach.

He felt grateful for the water as he couldn’t tell if he was crying or not.

“I…I _love_ you, Severus,” Sirius continued to Snape’s silence. He grew frightened for he had made himself vulnerable, and Snape, if willing, could destroy him. Tear him apart and leave him bleeding and dying on the bathroom floor tiles.

More fragile breaths, and then Snape’s voice, low and deep and with its own hints of vulnerability.

He placed his hands on the top of Sirius’s. He drew in a shuddering breath. “It…I don’t want this if…if you really don’t think this will work or if you want her, then please, you don’t need to do this. I…you understand…but I do, I do love you also. And I would like to…but it must…”

Sirius nodded and breathed deeply. “Yes. I understand. I…I will…not…I will be better. For you. For-”

“I know, Sirius,” Snape said quietly, and he tilted his head to the side so he could reach back and kiss him.

They kissed again and this time as they made love, Sirius reasoned it was actually love. Not hate. Not lust. Nothing of that sort. Love and forgiveness and the hope of a new, better beginning and of two people wanting each other in every facet of the word.

He didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky. Or how someone like him had been gifted so profoundly to have Severus Snape welcome him back into his life again. He did not deserve it, but life had decided to be kind to him.

He would not lose that again.

**++++++++++++**

When he woke, mouth tasting sour and eyes bleary, Snape was gone. However, the spot beside him remained warm, and with a grumble, he pulled himself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He cleaned himself, brushed his teeth, and ran a hand through his mussed hair. He yawned and stumbled into the kitchen, and there he was with that small smile on his face and two perfectly cooked omelets on the kitchen counter.

Sirius figured there were worse things than to be in love with Severus Snape.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius ran his hands down the soft skin of Snape’s back, palms pressing against the bony line of vertebrae. Snape lay on top of him, and Sirius held him tenderly, feeling as if he alone could keep the world from sinking its fangs into Snape’s flesh. Snape sighed peacefully, and Sirius pressed a kiss on the top of his head.

He wasn’t sure what drove him to speak, but the words had been building inside his head, clamoring for release. He finally spoke of the nightmare he had unearthed in Snape’s rotting house.

“I didn’t know,” Sirius began because he truly hadn’t. He should have, he thought, the signs were all there, and only his idiocy and blind assumptions had prevented him from recognizing Snape’s status. Even his name – _Snape_ – indicated no esteemed lineage or ancient family treasures, especially not in relation to the Black surname.

He burned with shame at how it must have looked – two wealthy, handsome boys bullying the poor, ugly one. And yet no one at Hogwarts, besides Lily, ever seemed to care. He felt enormous pity for Snape, for his isolation and humiliation and abandonment.

“Hmm?”

“About…your family. What you were dealing with.”

“Oh,” Snape fell silent, and Sirius could feel him frown against his upper chest. “You thought I was a…”

“Pure-blood,” Sirius finished. “Or at least, I don’t know. Just not that.”

“Do I disgust you, Black?” Snape asked, voice tightly controlled. Sirius’s hands twitched against the skin of his lower back, and his eyes widened with shock and outrage.

“Disgust me? What? No, of course not.”

“Even knowing…” Snape trailed off, and the words hung between them. That one drawing. That tiny, crying boy. Those two, terrible men.

“No,” Sirius stated firmly, “No, not at all. You…that was…I’m sorry that none of us treated you-.”

“I hated everyone,” Snape admitted, voice quiet with rage. “Everyone. Except Lily. But I didn’t need them. I had never needed-.”

“Was she your first friend?” Sirius interrupted, and Snape froze.

“Besides the imaginary ones? Yes,” he answered bitterly. “I dressed funny,” he sneered, “Acted weird. Surrounded by-by _Muggles_ ,” he spat out the word, and Sirius frowned. “Muggles who laughed and mocked, that strange boy from Spinner’s End, no one’s ever liked me all that much, if you can believe it-.”

“Besides Lily,” Sirius finished. He made sure to stroke Snape’s back with slow, tender movements because they had edged into the deeply personal. Snape talked as if hidden resentments had been rudely dredged up. He lay tense against Sirius but didn’t pull away.

“Yes,” Snape sighed, “She-she was,” he broke off, and Sirius decided to ask the question he already thought he knew the answer to.

“Do you love her?”

Snape took a long moment to respond, but Sirius waited patiently. It was strange, he thought, that the question didn’t inspire waves of jealous anger inside of him. However, he felt no resentment or spite: just a deep understanding.

“Yes,” Snape finally confessed, voice fragile. “Yes, I do. But I also love you, Sirius.”

“I know,” and he did.

“Thank you,” Snape whispered, and Sirius tilted his head in confusion.

“Hmm?”

“For…” Snape spoke with difficulty, “for letting me be her friend again. It’s--I lost myself without her.”

Sirius accepted his thanks with a murmur. Snape relaxed as Sirius drew patterns in the warm skin of his lover’s back.

“Can I ask you something?” Snape hummed in acceptance, and Sirius posed his question carefully. "I understand why your father-.” Sirius winced as Snape instantly tensed at the mention, “He hated magic, right?”

“He hated a lot of things,” Snape added bitterly, and Sirius knew he included himself in that list.

“But your mother? She…”

Snape exhaled harshly. “She blamed me for…for her misery. She never wanted me to begin with. Told me her greatest regret was that she failed to abort me when she had the chance.”

Sirius felt ice plunge into his skin. He once again grew sick with horror. “She told you that?” he asked aghast, for even his mother, evil as she was, had never said anything like that to him. He could barely imagine how it must feel – to be unwanted by the one who should want you above all others.

“Yes,” Snape continued emotionlessly. “I think without me she would have left him. So everything he did to her was, in a way, because of me.”

“That’s not,” Sirius protested, sick in the face of Snape’s agony. “You were a _child_.”

Snape shrugged tightly against him. “Yes, but-.”

“ _Severus_ ,” Sirius whispered painfully, unable to think of a little dark-haired child crying over the fact that his parents didn’t love him, didn’t like him, just _hated_ him, and then it was pain, pain, more pain because it had been the same for him – he had disgusted his parents, but he had never known _why._

Sirius realized he had started to cry, and Snape realized too because he propped himself up and brushed away a few of the tears. His cool, endless eyes met Sirius’s, and Sirius trembled at the sight of the ancient agony that hid quietly in his eyes, of that sense he was peering into the ruins of something that could have been great and beautiful but had been blasted to rubble at every turn of the world.

And despite that, or rather in spite of it, lay the defiance. The strength. That understanding that Snape still, against all odds, _loved_.

Sirius didn’t know what else to do but kiss him, and so they did, hearts beating against an agony forced upon them as children and souls clinging to each other with a love that made them whole.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius stumbled inside his apartment, feeling woozy and light-headed from the blood loss. His arm hung limply beside him, wound barely patched. He winced at the pain and grimaced at the gory stickiness of the shirt. He had shrugged off Remus’s efforts to get him to St. Mungo’s; he had no desire to subject himself to their examination and wanted instead to collapse into his bed with-.

“Severus,” Sirius slurred, leaning back against the door. He blinked a few times to clear the bright lights that hovered in his sight and managed, with great effort, to focus on the man.

“Sirius,” Snape said in his deep voice as he crossed the room. “You’re injured,” he stated bluntly. Sirius grinned weakly and tried to shrug. He grunted in pain when the movement aggravated his wound.

Snape’s eyes darted between him and his bloody arm, and Sirius felt enormous relief at his presence. He had realized over the past few weeks how safe Snape made him feel.

“Sit,” Snape ordered and left Sirius to search through his cabinet. Sirius complied and sunk heavily onto the couch. Snape was at his side an instant later, and with a tap of his wand, vanished his shirt.

Remus had quickly bandaged the wound, but it was sloppy. Snape hissed in disapproval. “Come to me sooner next time, Black,” Snape said irritated, and Sirius smiled wirily back at him.

“Black?” he asked lightly. Snape scowled.

“What curse?” Snape demanded as he waved his wand over Sirius’s injury and began to mutter something under his breath.

“Don’t know,” Sirius sighed, sliding down on the couch. “Something from my wonderful cousin – sect-something?

“ _Sectumsempra_?” Snape asked coolly as he continued to examine the wound.

“Could be. Why?”

“Another one of my creations,” Snape answered bitterly. “She did the same to me when I came to you for help. The counterspell is easy enough. I assume you would like to keep the scar?”

“If it’s not too much bother,” Sirius replied tiredly. His eyelids felt weighted, and he struggled to keep them open. Snape shifted beside him and began to mutter the counter spell that Sirius vaguely remembered – a song-like chant that drifted through the room and knitted the torn flesh together.

The pain burned for a moment and then lessened. Sirius glanced down to see a pale, white scar running from his shoulder to his elbow. “Looks cool,” he mumbled, and Snape pressed a kiss against the side of his head.

“I saw him,” Sirius stated wearily. “Voldemort.”

Snape tensed beside him and avoided his gaze. “Oh?”

“Frightening bloke.”

“Yes,” Snape said with a tight smile.

“He’s got some weird snake thing going on,” Sirius commented as his head lolled onto Snape’s shoulder.

“He does,” Snape whispered into the top of his head. “It’s the dark magic. Corrupted him.”

“Oh, well don’t let that happen to you,” Sirius mumbled as he faded into sleep. “You wouldn’t make a very pretty snake,” he explained to Snape’s silence.

He fell asleep before Snape’s reply, and when he woke the next morning, Snape lay entangled in his arms. They made love to each other, gentle and peaceful, and well-deserving post-battle.

**++++++++++++**

“What are you doing?” Snape asked from the couch. Sirius grinned and bopped his head up and down.

“What does it look like?” Sirius said, starting to move with the music. Snape frowned. “C’mon,” he gestured as Snape continued to watch him from the couch.

“I don’t dance,” Snape said with a curl of his lip. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Everyone dances,” he corrected, “Now c’mon.”

“Muggle music?” Snape arched his eyebrow, and Sirius laughed.

“You honestly could change all those pureblood’s minds about wizarding superiority if you just played them the Beatles or something. What have we got? Celestina Warbeck?” Sirius grumbled. Snape looked at Sirius amused, lips barely twitching up in a smile. Sirius knew he had got him. “Up you go,” he said, grabbing Snape’s hand and pulling him to his feet.

Snape stood rigidly beside him even as Sirius continued to dance to the beat. Sirius rolled his eyes and tried to grab Snape’s hand to get him to move, but the man remained rigid.

“I don’t dance,” he scowled, and Sirius smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss him lightly.

“Yeah, you do,” Sirius corrected again. “It’s easy. Just move with me.”

Snape moved like a spider in its violent death throes, but Sirius had never seen anything more endearing than a dancing Severus Snape.

**++++++++++++**

“Mmm,” Sirius moaned as he took a bite of pasta. Snape sat across from him, eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Good?” he asked, referencing the bowl of pasta he had just served Sirius. Sirius nodded and shut his eyes, relishing in the freshness of tomatoes and the earthiness of basil.

“Fucking amazing,” he groaned. Snape flushed at the compliment and took a bite of his own, face thoughtful until he nodded in satisfaction. “Where’d you learn how to cook?”

“Potions, really,” Snape replied casually. “A lot of the skills and theory carry over.”

“What I say,” Sirius said seriously, leaning forward. Snape looked at him startled, face furrowing in concern. “Screw this whole wizarding business, and we open a restaurant.”

“Oh?” Snape replied lightly. Sirius nodded as he envisioned the scene.

“Yes…we can call it, I don’t know, Lions Beat Snakes?” Snape smacked his arm, and Sirius grinned. “Or maybe not. But really, with this pasta, we’ll make buckets of galleons.” Snape rolled his eyes, but Sirius could tell the flattery had gotten to him.

“Leo,” Snape said simply after a moment of silence. Sirius choked on the pasta and let out a snort of laughter.

“You do realize that means lion, right?”

Snape simultaneously flushed and scowled. “No, I mean – Leo. For Regulus.”

Sirius blinked and swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. “Leo,” he repeated and imagined a beautiful restaurant by the ocean, someplace with seafood, and Snape in the kitchen with sleeves rolled up his forearms. Then he was there, arms snaking around Snape’s thin waist, and even though Snape looked annoyed, they both seemed happy.

Snape tasted like basil and parmesan when he kissed him, and they quickly finished the pasta to abandon the kitchen for the bed.

**++++++++++++**

Snape sat curled up in Sirius’s armchair, a quill balanced in one hand and a notebook propped on his knees. Sirius watched him for a while, taking in the thin pressing of lips, and the deep look of concentration mingled with frustration as Snape wrote and scratched out what he had just written.

He seemed unaware of Sirius’s attention, evidently lost in his work. Finally, curiosity won out, and Sirius threw the _Prophet_ aside and stretched out on the couch.

“What are you working on?” he asked, and Snape looked up suddenly as if remembering Sirius sat beside him. The hand holding the quill had frozen, and his initial look of surprise from the interruption faded.

“A potion,” he said simply, and Sirius gestured that he should elaborate. Snape sighed and set the notebook aside. “Theoretically, it should protect the user from the worse of the Cruciatus curse. It would need to be taken before being cursed but should ideally mitigate the pain, reduce the worse of its force, and lessen the after-effects. I’ve added dittany, fluxweed, peppermint, horklump juice, and vervain infusion so far, but I need to understand how their qualities will manifest with each other. And then I can organize the procedure according to their influences on each other.”

“Oh?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow as he took in Snape’s words.

“Yes,” he continued, looking upwards as he thought. “I’m sure the Order could find some use for it. If you take it before battle, it could add the element of surprise when the curse doesn’t act as fully intended.” He looked back down at his notes, “It still needs a good amount of work before I can try to brew it.”

As Sirius looked at him, he remembered Snape huddled in the back of the classrooms and his hook of a nose buried in books. He hadn’t had friends to begin with, and he seemed reluctant to help anyone besides Lily, who always flourished in her classes. The professors had—as Sirius remembered it, none of them were all too fond of the disagreeable boy.

McGonagall found him irksome, largely because of his failure to submit homework on time, which, to be fair, was largely the fault of Sirius and James either taking his homework or forcing Snape to do their own. Slughorn always seemed wary, stemming from a particularly embarrassing incident when Snape had mistakenly assumed acceptance into his Slug Club in his third year. Flitwick never seemed sure of what to make of him and Sprout ambivalent.

None of the professors had recognized his brilliance and keen understanding of magic. Even Dumbledore had only come to this realization recently. It would have had to be frustrating, Sirius thought, to be so arguably brilliant and yet continually despised and dismissed.

And then there was the Snape he now knew who devised complicated potions and engineered clever spells and always seemed so amazed at any measure of praise.

“That’s brilliant,” Sirius said, and as he expected, Snape flushed at the compliment. “Truly, Severus.”

“It’s really just correlating the healing properties with the non-physical characteristics of the Cruciatus. It’s not-,” Snape tried to counter, bashful at the praise.

“Brilliant,” Sirius reaffirmed, “You are – Severus, take the compliment, okay?”

“Okay,” Snape agreed after a long moment. His cheeks were still tinged red, and he avoided Sirius’s gaze.

Sirius cursed bitterly as he considered how much Hogwarts had failed Snape. It felt, again, as if everything had balanced precariously on a few key moments – of James calling out Snivellius, of the sorting, of Snape’s lost friendship with Lily - and how those few key moments had the frightening sense of determining the paths they had all taken well before they grew aware of the choices they had to make.

He wondered if one such key moment occurred when he decided to pick a fight with Snape, and, if so, what sort of path that decision had carved out for them.

**++++++++++++**

“Sirius,” Dumbledore said, gesturing him to hold back as everyone else left. Sirius paused and leaned casually against the chair. He shrugged off Remus who looked curious and exchanged a quick glance with Lily.

“Yes?” he asked when the room finally emptied. 

“First, I do hope you and Severus have reconnected,” he began, and Sirius nodded slowly. “Now, I don’t want this to be seen-,” he paused, and Sirius waited, crossing his arms. Dumbledore sighed and his expression sobered. “Voldemort and I are both of the understanding that whatever master Severus serves will likely win the war.”

Sirius blinked at the statement. “He’s _that_ important?” he asked astonished. Dumbledore nodded.

“He is a tipping point,” Dumbledore explained. “A very powerful wizard as I’m sure you have realized, but more so, an intelligent one. His full-hearted devotion to the dark magic and Voldemort would…would shift the scales beyond salvaging.”

“You just realized this?” Sirius asked with a mixture of shock and concern for no one had ever mentioned Snape in any Order meeting. No one had even seemed aware of his existence, let alone his importance in the war.

Dumbledore smiled grimly. “Yes. I consider it a great failure of mine. A wiser man would have seen his potential, but I failed him at Hogwarts. I was blinded.” He paused and searched Sirius’s gaze. “He came to me on his own accord. It was only when he finally spoke of his importance to Voldemort did I realize the grave mistake I had made. We are very fortunate Lily Potter was so kind to him in his youth.”

“But-?” Sirius stumbled, trying to make sense of Dumbledore’s words. He had the very uncomfortable, familiar feeling of his world being torn apart and rebuilt.

“Do you know he can successfully occlude his mind from Voldemort? That is no small feat,” Dumbledore mused, and Sirius regarded him warily. “Brilliant boy, with proper guidance could revolutionize the wizarding world-.”

“He’s not,” Sirius grumbled, uncomfortable at Dumbledore’s tone. Dumbledore’s eyes widened. “I mean,” he tried to clarify. “He’s not something for Voldemort to train like a, a dog. He’s not someone to mold,” he spat, avoiding Dumbledore’s gaze. “He’s himself, right? Whatever he wants that to be.”

“In this case, your lover?” Dumbledore responded quietly, and Sirius gave a jerky shrug. “Sirius, I simply mean to impose the absolute importance of not losing Severus to Voldemort. You have given him plenty of reason to hate our side, despite the fact that he has not, so please do not give him another.”

His tone was cold and firm, and Sirius shrunk from it before his temper flared.

“I love him,” he said angrily, eyes flashing. Dumbledore only regarded him coolly and nodded.

“Yes, I can see that. And for that, I hope I do not have to worry.” His blue eyes peered into Sirius, and he winced at the words, knowing well that Dumbledore had abundant reason to worry about Sirius callously breaking Snape’s lonely heart and driving him back into the arms of Voldemort.

His temper bit at his throat, and he stormed out of the room, recognizing the conversation finished. He grabbed the keys of his motorcycle and took off, racing down the streets into the countryside. The wind buffeted him, but he drove himself faster and faster as he thought about breaking Snape’s heart and how that made him feel as if the sun had vanished from the cloudy sky.

He had broken girls’ hearts before, and carelessly for that matter. Dumbledore would have heard the stories. Hell, he had done so to Marlene who still wouldn’t look at him. But Snape...

Snape was different. He loved Snape, and he loved Snape because his soul had met its match. They were two sides of the same coin, spinning endlessly in the air - a single soul split by circumstances, and for that reason-

For that reason, to break Snape’s heart would be to break his own.

Since he rather fancied the current state of his heart, he had no desire to confirm Dumbledore’s fear. And of course, he thought bitterly, the sex was too good to end it over anything so trite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I have been working towards since they fought in that ally, and I am so happy to see these two in love.
> 
> I realized I made a mistake in my counting of chapters, and unfortunately, I over-counted. There will be one more chapter after this to finish this story (can't believe I made it this far!), and then I will start to post the sequel - Give Me the Night. That story (if I counted correctly this time) will have ten chapters, posted on a weekly basis. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Please let me know how you feel in the comments below.


	18. Used to the Darkness

In the middle of July, he heard about Marlene.

Death Eater attack. The entire family. Dead.

It broke apart another piece of his heart and he cried for her and what the world had lost.

For two weeks, he couldn’t stand the sight of Snape. He tasted bitterness every time he thought of him and that snake coiling up his arm. His eyes burned, and his throat ached. The world grew darker.

Snape understood and left him alone, letting Sirius mourn.

It made Sirius feel worse – another betrayal. However, Snape was no stranger to grief, and while Sirius now knew what type of man Severus was, it didn’t change the fact that the Dark Mark remained branded onto his forearm.

Sirius apologized again and again, but Snape quieted him. He assured him that it was alright, that he loved Sirius and understood. While Sirius mourned, he would take the time to prepare to teach at Hogwarts – Voldemort had urged him into that position, a prime spot to remove his greatest rival, and Dumbledore had acceded, knowing, though, where Snape’s true loyalties lay.

Sirius attended the funeral. James and Lily couldn’t come – shelled up in Godric’s Hollow as they were – but the rest of the Order did, just as grim and heartbroken as he was. Marlene…poor Marlene, so young and beautiful and full of light and so completely undeserving of her fate.

Sirius wished it had been him. Wished his body now lay cold and silent. He wanted nothing more than to trade places with that woman who had liked his motorbike and smelled of flowers and brightened the world with her smile.

He brought roses to her grave and sat with her and promised never again, _never again_ would he continue to live while people far braver and kinder than him died.

He missed her. He cursed the war and the nightmare of the world.

The grief waned. Snape had waited for him, a blessing Sirius did not deserve, and moved back into the apartment.

His hands were kind as they stroked Sirius’s hair, and he held him as Sirius cried yet again, mourning the ashen flowers and the setting sun.

They didn’t speak, not for a while, and in those silent moments between them, Sirius felt the tears wash his skin and clear the skin-deep grime of war. He felt Snape’s heartbeat – steady and assured – a constant sound that spoke of life and the determination to fight. He felt his own lungs inflating and deflating – back and forth and back and forth – and he knew what he had to do.

He would win this war. He would keep those they loved safe.

He would fight and breathe and heed the calling and lean into the light.

And he would do it with Severus. His heart, his soul, his proof that not all was lost and forgotten in the darkest hour of the night.

**++++++++++++**

Sirius jolted awake when he felt Snape twist suddenly and push him aside. Sirius opened his eyes, looked at the man curiously, and felt panic surge when he realized Snape had pulled out his wand and gripped it tightly, tip pointing towards the door. His eyes had narrowed, mouth set. He breathed slowly and deeply.

Sirius whipped his head to the door, preparing for a Death Eater or some other terrible threat. He stared stupidly at a completely flabbergasted James Potter.

James Potter stared at the two of them in shocked disbelief. He moved his mouth open and shut silently as if no words could express his utter astonishment at the situation.

Sirius glanced back at Snape and noted the lines of tension carved into his face and arms, and then to James who now had pulled out his own wand and pointed it at Snape. Sirius had the plummeting feeling that the situation would rapidly implode.

“Snape,” James hissed, face hardening in hatred. Snape pulled his lips back in a snarl. Sirius realized he had to intervene or risk facing a fight. And, he admitted, Lily would not be pleased about her best friend cursing her husband.

“James,” Sirius cut in loudly, and James' gaze flickered over to him.

“It’s alright Sirius,” James comforted. Sirius looked at him in alarm. “We’ll figure out whatever this greasy snake did to you.” He snorted derisively. “You were _that_ desperate, Snivellius? Couldn’t get anyone to touch you with cursing them?” Snape twitched but didn’t respond. James glared at him in a disgusted rage.

“James!” Sirius tried again, but James flicked his wand, shooting out red light. Snape instantly threw up a shield charm, sending the jinx ricocheting off and smashing a lamp. He feared Snape’s response, so before the man could curse James, Sirius threw himself in front of the Snape, protecting him both from cursing James and from being cursed.

James stared at him, grip tightening on his wand. He glared at Snape who pressed uncomfortably between Sirius and the headboard. Sirius stared at James pleadingly.

“James,” he tried again, forcing some measure of calm into his voice. “It’s not a spell. He hasn’t cursed me.”

James whipped back to Sirius’s face, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Of course-!”

“No,” Sirius firmly stated. “I’m not cursed or—I brought him here on my accord. It’s not a trick or some dark magic. I’m fully myself, James - um, we used to play Quidditch when I came to your place in the summer, and one time I flew into a tree and broke my arm. Okay, James? It’s me.”

“But-?” James grappled, wand trembling in his hand. He stared at Sirius now, clearly distressed. “ _Snape?_ Sirius-.” Sirius nodded and raised his hands in a placating gesture. James stopped suddenly, looking as if he had swallowed something sour.

“We met at a bar. I took him to bed,” Sirius explained slowly, and James let out a wheezy laugh. He could feel Snape behind him but couldn’t see his face or gauge his reactions. Everything felt precarious and likely to explode, his clumsy fingers pulling at the wires.

“Okay, fine,” James replied exasperated. “I can’t really see why you would ever want to fuck something like-,” he gave a shaky laugh, “how many showers do you reckon you need to wash off the grease?” The taunt was cruel; he could imagine Snape’s expression of bitter resentment, worsened by the fact that Sirius, for years, had played along with it.

Sirius realized at that moment he faced a choice. He could entertain James, protect their relationship, and break the fragile love between Snape and him with cruel taunts and violent laughter. Or he could be, he supposed, a better man. Snape had tensed behind him, and Sirius knew he waited anxiously for his response.

“No,” Sirius stated coldly, taking James aback. He stared at Sirius with wary confusion.

“No?”

Sirius met James’s gaze and held it. “No. Severus-.”

“Severus?” James said with a wild laugh. “What the hell happened Sirius? One moment you’re about to propose to Marlene and now you’re in bed with, with- _Severus_?” He turned his attention back to Snape. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Snivellious. I know you did something to him,” he sneered. Sirius felt Snape’s open hand curl against his back. There was a pause, and Sirius pressed on.

“I met him in a bar a year ago.” Sirius winced internally at the betrayal that lashed across James’s face, and he felt guilty for the secret. However, he knew exactly how James would have reacted, and the man in front of him had yet to prove him wrong.

“A year?” James spluttered. He leaned heavily against the dresser. He lowered his wand and held out his hands in a sign of desperation. “A _year_?”

Sirius nodded and kept his voice steady and calm. “Yes. We’ve been seeing each other on and off since then. He’s important to me, James.”

James looked at him as if Sirius had just killed his puppy.

“You-you care for him?” James asked incredulously. Sirius didn’t break the eye contact as he nodded. “And it’s not some…”

“Nope,” Sirius emphasized. “No tricks.”

James drew in several shaky breaths. He closed his eyes and hung his head forward in thought. Sirius waited for him to speak, and Snape shifted behind him. “I…” James finally said, speaking as if from a great distance. “I don’t really understand, Sirius. How this,” he gestured helplessly. “But,” he continued, steadying his voice. “He’s been, Lily’s had him coming over now. Apparently, she forgave him, and…and if both you and Lily see some value in him, then maybe either he’s a very good liar or I’m just missing something.”

He paused and ran a hand over his face. “You really mean this, Sirius?” he implored, and when Sirius nodded, he sighed and dropped his shoulders. His wand lay forgotten in his hand. “Merlin, Snape,” James muttered, and Sirius felt Snape’s fingers twitch against his back, “you really have a bloody way of getting in with the best people in my life.”

“It wasn’t…” Snape responded slowly. James’s gaze whipped to him as he regarded him warily. Sirius tensed, anxious for another burst in tempers. “Neither of us expected anything like this to occur. It was solely hatred in the beginning, and I certainly didn’t expect either of us would have-.”

“Started caring for the other,” Sirius finished. James nodded after a moment, looking defeated.

“So you actually care for him?” James asked dejectedly, and whatever he saw in Sirius’s eyes answered his question because he let out a huff of crushed disbelief. He shut his eyes again and took a few breaths to calm himself. “Okay, I’m going to go sit in the living room. I’ll let you two…” He nodded to himself and then left the room.

They didn’t speak as they dressed, Sirius only laying his hand on Snape’s slender shoulder. They exchanged a quick glance before joining James.

James sat on the couch, bent over, and with his head in his hands. He jumped upwards when the door opened and they entered. Snape and Sirius both took seats – Snape in the armchair and Sirius beside James on the couch.

“Does Lily know?” he finally asked, focusing on Sirius.

“Yes,” Sirius answered, and James let out another huff of disbelief, the hurt clear on his face despite his attempts to hide it. “And Dumbledore.”

“And he approves of this?” James gestured again, “You with a…”

“Yeah,” Sirius answered, “He-.”

“I’m your spy,” Snape interrupted coolly.

“You?” James gasped. “Our-our _spy_?” He glanced at Sirius for confirmation and then leaned backwards with a distinct look of shock. “I feel like I missed something,” he said. Sirius couldn’t help but laugh, and even James begrudgingly smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “So you’re not a complete evil git then?” James directed the question to Snape, tone somewhat light. Sirius relaxed because he had been right – James would not understand, but he would come around to it. He felt a burst of love for his best friend and immense gratitude for his existence.

“Yes, contrary to popular belief,” Snape responded silkily. James huffed out a laugh, shaking his head again.

“Merlin’s balls, Snape. Who would have thought?” James joked, but Snape remained passive.

“Potter, why are you not at your house?” Snape asked suddenly, and James’s smile froze on his face. Sirius’s grin faded, and he glanced nervously at Snape.

“Bugger off,” James responded coldly, eyes narrowing in anger. Snape stared back unperturbed.

“The Dark Lord is hunting you,” Snape replied baldly. James scowled, and Sirius felt anxiety bloom in his stomach.

“He’s hunting my son, actually,” James spat back, the lines of his face hardening. “Unless you’d like to go tell him to bugger off.”

Snape blinked and carefully held his hands in his lap, a sign of anxiety. If Sirius didn’t know him so well, he wouldn’t have noticed. “He’ll force Lily to choose between you or your son,” Snape continued softly. James looked posed to argue back, but Snape cut him off. “Don’t make her make that choice. Even if she’ll choose her son.”

James’s scowl deepened. “Oh, fuck off Snape. I can handle myself.”

Snape looked about to protest, but then he caught himself. His gaze flickered over to Sirius, and Sirius knew he expected him to support him. And he was right, in a way. James’s visits to him were incredibly risky; however, he empathized with James, and the way he felt stuck and tucked away. He hated the feeling of entrapment and couldn’t blame James for wanting to get out every so often.

Even if Voldemort did hunt him, James couldn’t live every day in fear.

“It’s fine, Severus,” he interceded and internally winced at the flash of betrayal in Snape’s eyes. “We’ll stay here. He just needs to get out of the house. It’s warded enough, right?”

Snape pressed his lips together and stood suddenly. He started to turn on his feet to leave but paused. His eyes narrowed on Potter. “If you kill her, the Dark Lord will be the least of your problems,” he threatened, his voice sending a shiver of fear down Sirius’s spine. Sometimes he forgot just how terrifying Snape could be.

James stood and crossed the space so he stood inches from Severus. James looked down at him, but Snape stared back defiantly, lips pulled in a slight sneer. Sirius braced himself in case of a fight.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to her,” James hissed back. “She’s my wife. I love her.”

“And if the Dark Lord attacked now?” Snape challenged, eyes flashing.

“She’s safe,” James ground out, but a pause betrayed his doubt. They stared at each other for a long moment as Sirius waited anxiously beside them. Tension struck like lightning throughout the room.

James broke away first and angrily adjusted his glasses. “You’re still an evil fucking bastard,” he growled. “No matter what they might think of you now.” His gaze flickered over to Sirius’s for a moment, and he shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Sirius managed a nod, even if scarcely knew what he was doing anymore.

James sighed. “Come over later, Padfoot. I can’t stand to listen to Bagshot blather on anymore. Also, Lily wants you over for Halloween. Next week, right? Not you, Snape. You can fuck off.” He shot a final glare at Severus, slapped Sirius’s shoulder affectionately, and then with a final sigh, apparated away.

“They’ll be safe,” Sirius murmured. Snape looked at him, and something his gaze threatened to break.

“They must,” he whispered. Sirius stood quietly and walked over to embrace his lover. They held each other for a long time until Sirius lost sense where he ended and Snape started.

**++++++++++++**

He thought, now, with a bitter, cutting twist of fate, how quickly he had failed. How quickly the worst in him – his blind arrogance, his stupid trust, his refusal to recognize those for what they were – had smothered the sun and killed the world.

It was the sight of Godric’s Hallow blown apart. It was Hagrid with red-rimmed eyes holding an infant in his arms. It was the bodies he forced himself to see, stumbling through the door and entering a world he no longer wanted to live in.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Not the broken house or shattered world. Not the tiny orphaned child. Not the body of his dearest friend.

Strangely, the grief felt numbed. He had mourned Regulus. He had mourned Marlene. It had hollowed him out, and he didn’t think he had anything left to mourn for anyone else. Let alone the entire reason for his being.

Life in Azkaban, they announced. Life imprisoned.

He had thought someone would argue against it. Dumbledore, but then again, Dumbledore had never truly trusted him. Sirius suspected he saw far too much of him to delude himself into thinking Sirius someone good and honorable. Remus - but he had betrayed Remus once before. His arrogance and cruelty had endangered both Snape and Remus’s life, so he knew Remus would not discount this from him.

Snape, he had hoped. Snape knew him better than anyone. He would _know_ Sirius hadn’t betrayed the Potters. But no one would believe a Death Eater. Likely, Snape was already on his way to Azkaban. Sirius wondered bitterly if they could request neighboring cells.

There was no one. He was alone, and the loneliness scrabbled into him like a cast of crabs, tearing apart his tender flesh with their sharp pincers.

He missed Snape. He missed him so badly he could hardly breathe. They hadn’t been able to say goodbye. One moment they had lain in bed together, the next Severus had left for his Dark Mark had burned, and the next, the world recast itself as a nightmare.

Chaos and pain and _Pettigrew_ and the explosion and that rat, that _rat_ , and then the Aurors, and everything ceased to matter.

He had hoped to see Snape at the trial. He had looked up briefly to scan the room to catch one last sight of his fathomless eyes for he needed that defiance. That strength. That refusal to bend to the world. Sirius didn’t feel strong. He didn’t feel defiant. He felt defeated.

He bent his head at the oppressive weight of the audience’s stares.

They had demanded names. Reasons.

He said nothing.

He wanted to die, and he wanted Snape to die with him, so they could escape this nightmare together. They would fall into bed together, someplace safe and warm and where the world outside the windows drifted into mist. He wanted Snape in his arms dancing and laughing, the war so distant as if it never had existed at all.

He would give anything to go back. Back to his apartment. Back to Snape in his arms. Back to that one fight where their blood had mingled and the world had spun out of orbit.

He now knew who had kissed the other. He had known for a long time, but he had finally admitted it to himself as he stared at the beaten floor of the trial room.

He hadn’t pressed Snape’s head into the ground; Snape hadn’t stretched upward to catch Sirius’s lips. They had met in the middle. They had both kissed each other.

It was as simple as that.

There was nothing left inside him anymore. Only despair and grief and guilt and anguish. The dementors preyed on him. He could feel them settle on his skin, skeletal hands grasping for his soul.

They would have it, he thought. He couldn’t fight them. Not completely. They would take his love, prey on his affection, and destroy everything good.

They would take James. Remus. Marlene. Regulus. All those he had loved.

But they wouldn’t take all of it.

Not Severus, not Snape, not his dark, fathomless eyes or the pulsing hatred or that love that moved past the heart and into the soul.

The dementors would have the bright moments, the laughter and shared happiness. The moments in bed and of freedom and of joy. He would clutch onto them like a beggar, but he knew his grip would weaken and relent.

However, those moments when Snape’s and his souls spoke to each other in a common tongue – those were Sirius’s.

Revenge drove him forward now. Every other petty emotion now cast aside. He didn’t care how long it took. How many years of suffering – he _would_ get his revenge.

For now, though, he would do as Snape had always done. He would do as Snape had always, somehow, _impossibly_ , managed to do.

Despite being used to the darkness, he would not give up on the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus, I conclude this story. 
> 
> Used to the Darkness - in my eyes - was my first true test of writing. I had an idea - not much - but then I realized I needed to plot it, to keep it contained, to hit emotional narratives I wanted without forcing the issue. I believe I found success within this story, from all of Sirius's dramatic monologues to Snape's past trauma. It's a beautiful story in my eyes: two very flawed people falling in love and trying, despite everything, to be better people. 
> 
> I felt I had to maintain the canon-line as that had always been my plan. I do, however, have a sequel written: Give Me the Night. Please look for it if you're left wanting more with these two. 
> 
> On a side now, what a week for me! I also finished uploading Sleepless, another major story of mine and now this. Who would have ever thought I would find myself accomplishing this? Certainly not me. 
> 
> With that - I want to thank you a thousand times over for all the time you spent reading this story. For any comment you may have left. For any moment of happiness or frustration or anger or heartbreak. It's a beautiful thing for a writer to hear and realize, and I encourage all of you - whoever you may be - to write. To explore and read and put those annoying thoughts in your head onto words on a page. It's a beautiful thing. 
> 
> Thank you x


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